


Ridiculous

by MashiarasDream, tinnydandelion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, D/s relationship, Dom!Cas, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, Sub!Dean, angsty fluff, dealing with the past, happy end, so many feels, well in theory since they’re broken up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinnydandelion/pseuds/tinnydandelion
Summary: Cas has broken up with Dean three months ago. Ever since, Dean’s been pining like a lovesick puppy, his heart soaring at any attention Cas gives him at all. Cas, who has not started dating again. Which is yet another thing that gives Dean hope. It’s a bit ridiculous and he knows it, but damn him if he can help it. He's got no idea how much of Cas' past he's dragging up by stubbornly refusing to let go.





	1. Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing came about because “it’s a bit ridiculous” is one of my best girl’s favorite sentences. <3
> 
> The first chapter was a stand-alone story written by MashiarasDream. Then when the first reactions came in, keepcalmanddonotblink felt a burning need to defend Cas. And thus, our third collaboration was born. We are writing along without having prepared chapters this time, so updates will be irregular.
> 
> Oh, and there's no gif for this at all. Of course not.  
> 

It’s ridiculous. Dean knows it’s ridiculous. But he can’t help it.

So he ignores the eye-roll from his brother and the pitying look from Charlie as he rights himself, having avoided Cas’ elbow by mere inches.

Cas is still towering over him.

Dean risks a quick glance upwards. Cas is frowning but he’s looking right through him. It’s like he’s frowning at himself.

It makes Dean’s stomach tumble over itself again. Ridiculous. Ridiculous amounts of hope. All because Cas is giving him any attention at all, negative as it may be.

Charlie elbows him in the ribs. “Stop drooling,” she whispers as Cas turns away abruptly.

Dean’s heart sinks, the short moment of preening under Cas’ attention already giving way to feeling pathetic. Well, he’s accustomed to that.

He glares at Charlie. “Am not drooling.”

“Right.” The sarcasm is dripping off of the sentence.

Dean doesn’t answer because sarcasm is okay but if he answers he’ll accidentally tell her how happy it makes him that Cas tried to elbow him in the face instead of ignoring his existence, and then she’s going to declare him certifiable. Which, in all fairness, he probably is.

Thing is, it’s been three months. Three months in which Cas could have gone home with someone else on eleven different occasions that Dean counted. That’s how many times they were all out together. Oh, Cas has flirted with someone else every single one of those times and Dean’s jaw had hurt for two days from gritting his teeth when Cas groped a guy right in front of him. But then later that night, that guy had asked Cas to go home with him. And Cas had said No.

So excuse him if he sees it as a good sign that Cas is A, still available and B, doesn’t ignore him completely anymore. That if nothing else, at least when they’re roughhousing Cas is not going out of his way to make sure he’s not interacting with Dean.

Charlie sighs loudly next to him and pokes him in the ribs again. “Earth to Dean, we’re still here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean sighs. He takes a swig of his coke. No alcohol. Never any alcohol around Cas anymore.

Cas takes his soda bottle and puts it to his lips before seeing Dean’s coke. He frowns at it, then at his own drink, then at Dean and finally sets his drink back down on the table without drinking.

Charlie looks from Cas to Dean and back, groans and buries her face in her hands. “You’re such fucking idiots, I can’t take it.”

“Gee, thanks Charles. Way to be a supportive best friend,” Dean grumbles.

“I am, dude, I am. I am way more supportive than I ever thought I could stand without puking.” She groans again. “I really didn’t need to know this about you.”

Dean looks at her puzzled because she already knows that he’s following Cas around like a lovesick puppy, so there’s really not that much new information there.

“Oh my God,” the groan turns into a slightly hysterical laugh, “you don’t even notice, do you?”

“Charlie, what the fuck?” Dean shakes his head.

“If I didn’t know this was serious…,” she wheezes.

Dean takes another sip of his drink and lets her get it out of her system. When she’s calmed down, she leans in close, waving Sam off when he looks at them curiously. “I swear he’s thinking about tying you up and spanking you until he’s not irritated at himself anymore.”

Dean feels himself turning beet-red. He opens his mouth to rebuff her but no words come out.

Charlie, for all of her conspiratorial closeness, has been watching him like a hawk. “Wanna deny this any time soon? Cause the longer you wait, the more I’m gonna be convinced you’d be on board with that plan.”

“I -,” But the words don’t come. Instead, his eyes are drawn to Cas’ soda. He’s sober. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t been drinking at any of their get-togethers. Not where Dean could see, anyway. Dean averts his eyes. “He ain’t gonna,” he says to Charlie, not bothering with the denial he knows is useless.

“Why’s that?” Charlie asks.

“You got over the whole ‘I didn’t need to know this about your sex life’ fast,” Dean tries to divert her attention.

“Dean,” she says sternly.

He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that, you know that, right? Just cause he can get me to do stuff, doesn’t mean it works the same for you.”

She raises one eyebrow at him, sits up straight and leans forward into his space.

“You suck,” he mumbles but he shrinks back against it a little. Just enough that she smirks and backs off.

“So?” She asks.

“So what?” he tries one last time to get out of this.

“So why can’t he just – punish you and get over this? Seeing how you’re obviously hung up on each other still.”

“Cause that ain’t how it works, either.”

“Why?”

Dean sighs. “Cause he’s a control freak. He doesn’t trust himself when he’s angry. And believe me, he’s angry.”

 “What did you do anyway? You never said.”

“Freaked out on him. Said a few things.” Dean shrugs. “I was drunk.” That should be explanation enough.

The pity from before is back in Charlie’s eyes. “Who did you say the things about? Him or yourself?”

“Umm.” She knows him way too well. Dean’s heart seizes up but since he’s already spilling his guts here, what’s the use in withholding that piece of information. “Myself, I guess. Though obviously that inferred a few things about him.”

“Dean, you gotta stop doing that.” Charlie squeezes his knee. “John’s an asshole and everything he says is bullshit.”

There are tears prickling at the corners of Dean’s eyes, so he quickly looks away from Charlie. Of course that makes him look right into the worried eyes of his younger brother. And one of Cas’ frowns.

Great, now they’re teaming up on his sorry ass.

“I gotta get some air. I’ll be back.” He stands up abruptly, snatching his coke bottle from the table because it’s at least something to hold on to, seeing how he’s given up on all his vices. For a moment, he resents Cas for that, then his Dad, then himself. Then he lets it go.

Because deep down, he knows it’s better this way. He’s got his Dad as an example of what happens when a bottle of Jack is your best friend. And cigarette smoke tastes vile, he can’t really deny that, even if he gave that one up for Cas and right now he’s in the mood to be stubborn about anything that Cas brought into his life.

He plonks down on the porch steps. That’s the worst part, probably. That he’s pining and pathetic, and at the same time his life is still better than it was before Cas. He downs more of his coke. It’s the irony of it all, that he lost Cas over an outbreak of anguish and self-deprecation that really wasn’t even him anymore.

Because these days, Dean’s actually kind of proud of his life, pathetic lovesickness aside. He’s got a job that he doesn’t hate, he’s got great friends, and back when he thought Cas was _the One_ and would be sticking around, he’d finally managed to get his head out of his ass and come out to everyone. So even though the whole sticking around thing didn’t work out, Dean’s still happily out and it’s made his life approximately 85% easier. He’d never noticed how much energy that posturing thing zapped before he stopped doing it.

He’s not quite so sure reactions would be similarly positive if the things he’d just told Charlie became public knowledge. Accepting your brother is bi is one thing, accepting that he likes to get trussed up and used is another. Dean grimaces, the words are not his friends even when he’s only thinking them.

_So what does that make me? If this is what you think of yourself, what do you have to think of me?_

Cas’ words rattle around in Dean’s head, complete with Cas’ gobsmacked expression, gradually replaced by hurt when Dean couldn’t take back what he’d said. When his self-hate was too deep that day, a few hours after coming back from spending Christmas at his Dad’s place.

He’s tried to apologize since. At least for the part where he hurt Cas with what he said. Because Cas is awesome and Dean hasn’t got a single bad thought about him. But Cas had been stubborn about this one, wounds running too deep.

_A few words won’t solve this, Dean. You meant what you said, and we both know it._

Which yeah, Dean had meant it, and he also hadn’t. He’d been drunk and his Dad’s voice had been louder than his own. And yeah, he can’t guarantee that that won’t happen again. He’s trying, though. Noticeable if by nothing else then by how he’s nursing his coke and not even freaking out about Charlie figuring it out.

Which, you know, he still doesn’t know how she did that. All he’d seen was Cas scowling. Then of course, Cas scowling while Dean pathetically follows him around, flirts too hard, and basically just in general tries too hard and flushes scarlet every time it gets him any attention at all, is pretty much a common occurrence these days. And if you want to label it with a power balance, well, Dean’s not coming out on top in that dynamic.

Thing is, his heart soars every time Cas so much as looks in his direction and he can’t do jack about it. And he’s not going to stop hanging out with his friends to avoid Cas.

“You’re infuriating,” a dark gravelly voice suddenly says.

For a moment, Dean believes it’s his imagination taking on Cas’ voice but then the man himself comes into view. He leans against the porch railing instead of sitting down.

Dean feels the heat creep up his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” Cas asks a little exasperatedly.

“For being infuriating?” It’s what Cas said and as good a guess as any. Also, Dean guesses that it’s fair enough to call his pathetic state infuriating.  

Cas huffs, though, so the answer was apparently wrong. Dean stomps down the urge to apologize again and bites his lips instead. He doesn’t want to make Cas leave. And if he says anything else that’s probably what’s going to happen.

“You’re infuriating because I can’t get you out of my head. And the way you’re,” Cas clears his throat, “the way you’re reacting to me isn’t helping, either.”

The heat creeps up Dean’s neck again. Of course Cas would notice. He’s always been attuned to Dean, inside and outside of their playtime. Dean fiddles with the leather band around his wrist.

“I can’t,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

“What?” Cas squints at him, puzzled.

“You’re going to ask me to stop. And I can’t. It’s just,” he shrugs helplessly, “the way I am around you.”

With a sigh, Cas pushes himself off the rail and sits down next to Dean after all. “If it’s any consolation, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“It wasn’t?” Dean asks.

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “But I might still take some measures to make things easier on us.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I cannot and do not want to control your actions, Dean. The only thing I can control is myself. And I’m not doing it very well around you.”

“So you don’t want to be around me at all,” Dean deducts, voice flat, heart sinking somewhere towards the floor.

“It’s not a matter of _want_ , Dean. It’s a matter of being practical.” Cas trails off, looking into the distance instead of at Dean.

“’s your choice,” Dean mumbles. “I mean, obviously. It‘s just… just that I miss you terribly and I don’t know what to do to make you not angry with me anymore. Like, not even get back together, just… I hate it that you’re angry and disappointed.” Which of the two is worse, he doesn’t know. As it is, his voice is getting smaller the more he feels Cas tensing next to him, so he stops. “You didn’t want to hear that. Sorry.” He hangs his head.

“I…,” Cas rubs his forehead. “You’re right, Dean. I didn’t want to hear it. If only because it would make things easier if you had moved on. Benny would take you back in a heartbeat. Lisa, too.”

Dean scowls, unhappy about Cas listing potential romantic partners like this is just some human on human transaction. As if there’s nothing deeper to Dean’s feelings than having _someone_ , no matter whom. “Don’t want him,” Dean grits out. “Or her.” He doesn’t add the _want you_. If Cas isn’t aware of that, he doesn’t deserve the knowledge.

But apparently Cas gets it because he’s quiet for a while, before he finally says, “I’ve spent a long time coming to terms with myself. I cannot lose that.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Dean replies somewhat heatedly. “When I fell in love with you, it was with all the quirks included. And the, umm, dominant thing as well.” His voice wavers towards the end of the sentence, short-lived anger already burned out and embarrassment creeping back in. He shakes his head unwillingly. He’s been over this with himself a bazillion times in the past few months, he _will_ manage to say it out loud to Cas. “My boyfriend and my Dom. I loved you as both of those, Cas.” It comes out stable and Dean even remembers to word this in the past tense. He nods satisfied. At least something.

It gets him a small smile from Cas, too, like he notices the effort that that’s cost Dean. The smile is not as bitter as he’s used to seeing lately, either. Unfortunately, it’s a lot sadder instead. “I’m angry at myself, Dean. Not at you.”

“For letting me get to you,” Dean figures out immediately because he’s an idiot but not that big of an idiot. “For letting me make you feel bad about yourself. Which makes it my fault again.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Cas shakes his head. “It’s my job to have a stable core of who I am. It’s not your job to bolster that.” Cas chuckles softly. “For all your self-deprecation, I think you do a better job at that than me. At knowing who you are.”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t always like who he is but he’s got enough people calling him out on his bullshit that being honest with himself has become habit. “Yeah, I kind of know who I am. I kind of know what I want, too.” He takes an ostentatious sip from his coke bottle, knowing that Cas will get what he means.

That it’s Cas that he wants and that he wants to be sober because he wants what they had and he wants all the playtime and he doesn’t want his judgement to be impaired. But it’s also more than that. He doesn’t want to go back to the person he was before Cas came into his life. He’s working on his coping mechanisms and even if it doesn’t help with the lovesick puppy thing, Dean’s life isn’t falling apart because Cas isn’t in it anymore. He doesn’t _need_ Cas. But boy, does he _want_ him.

“You still shouldn’t let me elbow you in the face,” Cas says, voice and face softer than they had been. Like he’s noticed everything that Dean has changed and is proud of him but doesn’t want to admit it.

“I trust you,” Dean says simply. “You wouldn’t go too far.”

“Sometimes I think that your judgement is more impaired sober than when drunk,” Cas shakes his head.

“Dude,” Dean’s not sure whether he should take offense or laugh. He decides to go for the third option. “Keep this up and you’ll never again have a leg to stand on when telling me I’m too self-deprecating.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Cas snorts. Then he lets out a long deliberate breath. “I’m glad I came out here, Dean, and that we talked. It was the right thing to do.”

“Because open communication is important?”

“Because I don’t like loose ends. And I didn’t want you to think that I’m still upset with you. I’m not. I don’t regret what we had, Dean. Not a single moment of it.”

“So this is goodbye?” Dean suddenly understands. His heart sinks into his stomach again.

“For a while anyway,” Cas nods. “I’m leaving early tomorrow. I’m going to visit my granny for the summer. I don’t know how long I’ll be away.”

There are a thousand questions immediately on Dean’s mind. How and why and what about your work and your friends and what about me. But he doesn’t ask them. Instead, he says, “Guess if I asked you whether I could text you, you’d say No, huh?”

“I can’t, Dean. I need to clear my head. I can’t do it while you’re around.”

“Okay,” Dean nods because it’s not like he didn’t expect the answer. “But you know, you could still - if you get bored in Washington and you want someone to talk – just text me. I promise I won’t contact you unless you write me first.”

“You remember that.”

“I remember what?”

“That she lives in Washington. “

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Course I do. She’s your granny.”

“I never mentioned her more than in passing.”

“Which part about me being in love with you didn’t you get?” Dean chuckles though it’s a mirthless laugh. “I actually listen when you talk, you know. And not just when you’re giving me orders.”

Cas stretches out a hand, softly puts his fingers on the wristband Dean was playing with. He makes sure not to touch the skin beneath. “You didn’t take it off.”

“It was a present,” Dean says, voice already defensive. “You can’t order me to take it off.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Cas sighs. Then he shakes his head like he knows he’s doing something stupid and fumbles in his pocket. His hand comes back out with his keys. He holds them up for Dean to see.

The matching leather wristband is dangling from the keychain.

Dean blinks at it. But it doesn’t disappear, it stays solidly right where it is, cradled in Cas’ palm. “You didn’t throw it away.”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I wanted to, for a while there. But I didn’t. And now I want to keep it.” He runs his fingers over the leather, lets the band glide between his fingers. It’s a firm hold, the leather not slipping away. At the same time, it’s endlessly gentle.

Dean shivers just watching it. Then he swallows hard. “Is it ridiculous?” he asks, voice rough. “To have hope?”

It takes a long time before Cas answers. But when he does, he has the leather band clasped tightly in his hand and he meets Dean’s eyes and there’s even something like a small smile curling around the corners of his mouth.

“No, Dean. Hope is never ridiculous.”


	2. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas hurt Dean, so he ran. Now the past is catching up with him. It is time to face it and to finally move on. But that is easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The minor character death is in the past but it could be triggering so see chapter end notes if you want to know details.

Washington isn't far enough away. Cas should have known it. Maybe France would have been better, a different life in a different city. Not that there wouldn't be memories waiting there, too. Not that anywhere could be ‘far enough’.

Also, he hadn’t actually come here because he was running. Well, not quite true. But not quite a lie, either. He had been running. From his life that had gone horribly wrong. From Dean who… But he’d tried to run to a place where he could take a stand. Where he could turn around and look at his mistakes and...

The wristband in his hand weighs heavily. He doesn’t remember even grabbing it. Part of him still wants to get rid of it while another, much louder part holds on as if his life depends on it. Things had been good, Dean was good to him - was good for him, in more ways than Cas could tell. Dean had wormed his way deeper into Cas’ heart than Cas had ever given him permission for. In fact, deep enough that Cas’ heart is aching even now.

Yes, he was angry and sometimes he still is, and part of it is towards Dean, but somewhere deep inside, he knows that even from the first moment, he had no one to blame but himself. For letting Dean get so close, for not being able to move on, for the words to catch him, to poison his mind and darken every good feeling. For the past to jump him without a warning.

Cas hates to think about all of this, hates admitting how much of this is on him, too. For not telling Dean about this side of his story. For not taking enough care. For not seeing it coming. For helplessly watching the catastrophe happen. For getting hurt and hurting in return.

Too many feelings, too many memories. It still feels like a fog hanging over him, making it impossible for him to do a thing. To take back control.

_“You were always broken, Castiel. But I will fix you. I will.“_

The words are echoing in his mind, mixing with other similar words.

_“Cas, I’m broken. I’m just fucking broken. You’re trying so hard but I don’t think it can be fixed.“_

Too close, too close to home. Too close to those words, to his feelings, too close.

So he pushed him away to protect himself. And of course Dean blamed himself. Took everything on his shoulders while it wasn't supposed to be like this. And Cas let him. To think about this leaves a sour feeling. He doesn't like this version of himself, he doesn't want to be that.

Cas sighs and lets the wristband disappear in his pocket. He promised himself to work this out, to get a new perspective and most importantly, _not_ to dwell in self pity.

Maybe some fresh air will clear his mind, running has always helped with that. And as soon as he’s decided that, he feels better. There is something he actually can do right now. Something that makes him stop thinking. At least for some time.

So he goes running.

He’s a little out of breath when he arrives at the small house. It’s well kept, with a clichéd white picket fence to signal its borders. Like it is its own little kingdom, separate from the world.

It makes sense, of course, that his feet carry him here, even though now that he is here, he’d like to avoid this for another few days. Even from out here, he can feel the memories creeping up on him. And yes, in the end, that is why he came, to deal with those memories, the ones that he knows are what makes him the wrong person for Dean.

His heart seizes as it always does when he comes that far. He’d needed way too long to see it. That he’s not good for Dean. That Dean trusts him too much and Cas can’t guarantee that the things that happened back here won’t - he stops his train of thought.

He’s not doing this for Dean. He’s doing this for himself. He needs to deal with this. He owes it to himself.

“You going to come in sometime today, sweetheart?”

He’s not even surprised when Missouri suddenly stands on the porch, leaning against the door frame and sending him a deep smile. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him here, either.

“Kettle’s already on the stove.”

She turns around and disappears back into the house.

Cas bites his lips, apprehension filling him, even though he knows the house is warm and cozy inside. But then he pushes himself and his feet start moving, even though they drag along the ground, don’t want to give him any of their usual runner’s litheness.

In the kitchen, Missouri is taking the tea out of the cabinet.

“It’s still herbal tea for you, darling?”

“Yeah,” he manages to rasp out. It even smells the same. How can a house that you haven’t visited in years smell the same?

“I thought so,” Missouri smiles. She busies herself with the mugs and the tea, giving him time to adjust.

He’s not sure how much time he’d actually need for that, though. More than a few minutes, that much is certain.

“You can wait in the living room if you want,” Missouri adds.

He nods but he just barely manages to get past the doorframe before he has to stop. His heart is beating out of his chest and he feels lightheaded as he’s assaulted with the past. The flowery couch, the deck of tarot cards, the flowers. The line of framed photos.

There’s something that changed at least. There are more photos than he remembers. Not as many more as he expected, but a few.

His feet move without his conscious input yet again, as he follows the line of faces into the past. None of them are double, every face in exactly one shot. The clothes change and the haircuts, too, the colors get distorted as the photos age, until finally he reaches faces that he knows and then the photo that he knew was here. He only manages to look at the two faces in the photo for a few seconds before he has to turn away, wanting to hurl and to cry at the same time.

“Tea is ready, love,” Missouri comes in behind him and puts the tea on the low table.

He takes a moment to compose himself before he turns to her and goes to sit down on the couch. “You’re not - there’s not enough new photos.” His tongue feels tied into knots and it’s an enormous effort to even get out this one sentence.

Missouri’s eyes are warm when she follows his gaze to the frames. “Fostering is hard work. I’ve gotten old a while ago. I can’t keep up with the younglings anymore so someone else has to take over for me now.”

“Don’t think there’s anyone better than you, Gran,” Cas whispers.

“Oh Cassie.” Her whole face turns soft with compassion.

“Don’t, please,” Cas can hear the pain in his voice before the words break completely.

“But this is why you’re here, love, isn’t it? This is why you ran all the way from Kansas to your old Granny.”

He wants to deny it but he nods anyway. “I hurt someone, Granny. I hurt them bad.”

“Cassie, love, you don’t have to do that here, remember?”

Cas flinches again at the nickname, unused ever since he moved away from here. Buried with everything else. “Him,” he mumbles. “I hurt him.”

“Good boy,” Missouri smiles.

She takes a sip of her tea, giving him time to figure out what he wants to share next. Cas is not sure, though. He had planned to give himself a little more time after all. Had planned to work it out. In a list, maybe, with little check boxes. Check off every piece of his past that he’s looked at until he’s worked through it all and comes out a better man. One who can be good. To Dean, if Dean still wants that. But also just someone who can be good.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Missouri asks.

“What? Where?” Cas startles out of his thoughts.

“To the graveyard. When you go visit. I’m not sure you should visit alone.”

“I -”, the words die in Cas’ throat like they always die. His eyes flit to the picture.

Gabe’s wearing a smile on it, Cas doesn’t. On the surface, it looks like Cas is the one who’s haunted. But if you look closer, you can see it. How both of their eyes are hollow, and how there’s a strain in Gabe’s smile. How it never reaches his eyes.

Cas averts his eyes like he’s averted them for the past decade. The fact that he’s come here to change that somehow doesn’t translate into actually being able to face Gabe’s fake smile.

“Did you regret us?” he asks instead and doesn’t know where the words came from. All he knows is that Missouri got into a hell of a lot of trouble when Naomi took up her crusade to get him back after - after everything happened.

“I would have fought for you, love,” Missouri says. Her words have a hard edge, like she’s still determined to fight, even this many years later.

Cas shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have worked. She’s got too much influence.” Which is why he went back. Out of his own free will. If you can call it that.

But even a limited choice is still a choice. And if the only thing he could control was that his mother didn’t get the chance to hurt someone else he loved, then so be it. He’d take that bit of control and run with it. It had been too late for him anyway. He’d already been broken.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Missouri interrupts his thoughts. “The one who made you come here?”

He smiles. That one is easy compared to everything else that wants to crush him right now. Talking about Dean is something he can do, something that makes it easier, if only for a moment. “He’s a good man. He tries hard to be the best he can be.“

“You are afraid of destroying him,“ Missouri frowns.

It is not a question. Cas wonders how she does that. How she knows the true meaning behind words without hesitation. He nods, stares into his teacup instead of looking at her when he answers.

“He would let me.“

The truth of the words weighs heavy on him and he wishes he could wish them away.

He’d always known he could hurt Dean. Even before that night. But after that… After that he’d known that he could break his nose, his arm, everything and Dean wouldn't run. He would stay. Would even still love him. Still believe in him.

“It scares you.“

“Of course.“

It’s too much. Even if it isn’t as unconditional as it seems. Oh, Cas is aware that if he laid one finger on Sam, Dean would not hesitate to beat him into a bloody pulp. But not for himself. Never for himself.

Cas shakes his head to clear it. He’s craved control. Always, as long as he can remember. Even since before - and Dean is giving him that. Is giving him all the control he needs and then some. And somehow, that isn’t as easy as he thought it would be. In fact, having this much control over someone he loves messes with Cas’ mind almost as much as having no control at all.

He swallows heavily. _Someone he loves._ It’s been awhile since he’s allowed himself to think in those terms about Dean. And he is not sure Dean would appreciate it now.

Suddenly, all Cas feels is lost. He has no idea where to go from here. He’s kept running for so long. Literally and metaphorically.

“Where are you staying?“ The question comes out of the blue.

“In the motel uptown.”

Missouri smiles. “A transient place. Maybe that’s what you need right now. But if you want to know my opinion, that’s not what you came for. You came because you’re looking for the core that you’ve lost. And you’ve lost it here. You’ve lost it when you lost him,” she nods in the direction of the photo. “Which is why I ask you to stay. I have told you this before. I always have a room for you.“

“I can’t.“ It’s out of his mouth before he’s even thought about the offer but his palms are suddenly clammy with cold sweat. “Please. I will come back. But I can’t - I can’t stay. I can’t look at - I will rent a small apartment.“

He jumps up because suddenly all that Cas wants is to get away. Everything feels too close, every child’s eyes in the photos are staring at him and he needs to get out of here. He came here to get back control but this place and Missouri’s knowing eyes make him feel like it slips even more out of his hands.

“Cassie! Calm down!”

It’s an order, though it isn’t harsh or even very loud. Cas buries his face in his hands. Too many thoughts. Breathing too shallow.

“Cassie.” Now Missouri is up and next to him. “Look at me.”

There are no endearments now and her voice is stern. Cas flinches but the house smells like it did back then and Missouri smells the same as well, sounds the same, feels the same. And once upon a time she was the only person he trusted, the only good thing in his life. So he looks up.

Her eyes are dark and they aren’t soft but there is no malice in them, either. She holds his gaze steadily.

“The whole world is not your fault, sweetheart. Every child’s pain is not your fault. Your brother’s pain is not your fault. And your lover’s pain isn’t, either.”

Cas cries out then, because it is. Even if with the others the boundaries are hazy, he’s hurt Dean. He knows it for sure, that he’s hurt him and that Dean’s pain is his fault and he’s never wanted to bring him pain. He’s never wanted to bring anyone pain. He’s only ever wanted to save them. And he’s never enough.

He finds himself in Missouri’s arms, crying desperately. She rocks him gently, like she did when he was much smaller and a child. He soaks it up eagerly, her touch the only motherly warmth he’s ever known.

“Granny,” he sobs. “He’s dead, Granny. He trusted me and he’s dead. I can’t - please make it not happen again.”

“It won’t, love. It won’t happen again,” she soothes softly, stroking her hand through his hair.

“I love him, Gran, he can’t - he needs to -,” but the words desert him like the traitors they are. “I should stay away. I should stay far away,” is all that finally makes it out.

“Shh,” she calms him. “You are here now and here is where you are supposed to be. Everything else you can decide later. Now, you need to focus on yourself. You came here for a reason and you need to see that through. Not today, though. You did enough for one day. You’ll drink the rest of your tea now and then you’ll go back to your motel room. I’ll give you a number to call. Someone who rents out rooms. You’re going to get yourself a room and you’re going to settle in here. And then you’ll come back to me and we’ll get to work.”

She doesn’t ask him whether that sounds like a good plan. She doesn’t need to. He’s got no idea how she is doing it but he is keenly aware that she already knows what’s in his heart. That he’ll do what she says.

“Okay,” he whispers because there’s still tears dripping down his face and his voice won’t hold. “Okay.”

“One step at a time, sweetheart. It’s the only way anyone moves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character death: Gabriel, Cas’ brother, has killed himself when they were still minors. No further details are discussed in this chapter.


	3. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is literally stuck. He tries to move forward but he can't. That's when a friend from the past finds him.

It‘s his 27th attempt to enter the graveyard.

Not that he’s counting.

His 5th attempt brought him up to the gates, but even with attempt 27 he’s not gotten any further. Every time he tries and fails he feels even more miserable than before but that doesn’t seem to change the fact that he finds himself in front of the iron gate again either in the afternoon of the same day or the morning of the next.

It doesn’t help that he’s been avoiding Missouri. It was her fault in the first place, mentioning the graveyard. He’s sure that that is what gave his brain the idea that he indeed should visit, that it is important for what he’s trying to achieve here.

Missouri was right, he can‘t do this alone. He knows it, has probably known from the start but still wasn‘t ready to admit it. Who doesn’t manage to visit their brother’s grave? It’s ridiculous.

Only, telling himself that doesn’t change a thing. His feet still won’t move forward.

He gives up for now, sits down on the concrete and decides to stare down the gate for a while, hoping that that will change his feelings somehow.

There aren’t many people out here. There are two or three widows who have started greeting him, barely concealed curiosity on their faces when they saw him here for the second week in a row.

He nods back at them but he hardens his face, makes sure that he looks aloof and unapproachable. He doesn’t want to spill his story. Not to strangers, not to friends. Not to himself, either, if he’s totally honest with himself. There is a reason why Dean isn’t even aware that Cas has a brother.

Had. Had a brother.

Cas lets his forehead sink on his knees, energy needed to keep his head up suddenly too much.

He has failed him in life, he is failing him again now. Every time he turns around, every time he can’t make himself go through this gate, every time his mind conjures up the image of a pale unmoving corpse instead of the picture of his brother.

Gabe deserved better. He deserved better in life and he deserves better now.

“You gonna turn into stone here or something?”

Cas startles when someone shoves at his shoulder. He’s immediately ready to fight, the mixture of the familiar address and the physical touch too much for his fragile state of mind, but when he jumps up, fighting stance and everything, he looks right into the biggest, cockiest smirk imaginable.

He does a double take.

Nothing much else about the man is immediately familiar but that smile.

It takes another moment and a mental exercise to replace deep lines with smooth skin and an adult body with the lanky features of youth, but then recognition dawns. The blood drains from Cas’ face and his fighting stance slackens. “Balthazar.” He clears his throat, tries to sound less spooked, “What are you doing here?”

Balthazar’s eyebrows rise. “Who do you think is the one maintaining the grave, huh?” He waves the flower pot he’d been carrying in front of Cas’ face.

“And how did you… How did you know it was me?”

“I’m just _that_ good,” Balthazar grins. But when he sees Cas’ face, he relents. “Missouri told me you were in town. Told me it was a good idea to keep an eye out for you around the cemetery. Said something about you being a stubborn idiot for not calling her to come with you.”

Cas feels his face flush with embarrassment. But then, he could have guessed that part. Missouri always knew what her ex-wards were up to.  She kept in touch with every single one of them. Even if, like in the case of Cas until this month, it was no more than one or two cards a year, at Christmas or for birthdays.  

“So, you got a hug for a long lost friend?” Balthazar grins and opens his arms.

“Is that what we are?” Cas asks. He has the urge to hug his arms around himself but he doesn’t. His frazzled state of mind is clear enough as is.

“Would you prefer ‘brother’? Cause you know, technically, we’re foster brothers and all.”

“We lived together for two weeks!”

“Oh come on, Cassie. Just give me a hug.”

But Cas can feel his guts tie themselves into knots and instead of hugging Balthazar, he stumbles a step backwards.

“Don’t… don’t call me that, please. Not here. Actually, not ever. Please,” Cas stutters.

Balthazar’s arms sink as he observes Cas with a new attention. “Okay, so Missouri was right, you are in a bad place right now. Any particular reasons for this one? Or at least something else I can call you? I’m not going to go and call you Castiel every time I want to talk to you.”

“Cas. It’s Cas now,” Cas manages to say.

 _Cas. Cas._ The name repeats itself in his mind in Dean’s voice and suddenly he can breathe again. At least a little.

“Cas. Okay. I can work with that. So, Cas, want to stand here all day or are you up for either going in there or getting a cup of coffee?” Balthazar asks. “Cause I think I’ve reached my limit of getting ogled by old crows.”

“Already?” Cas asks.

Balthazar huffs out a laugh. “One could almost think you’ve still got some dry humor. And just when I thought you were completely catatonic.”

“Fuck you,” Cas mumbles, and then quickly adds. “But not literally. Like, really, no. You might be my brother’s type but -” He notices what he’s said and shuts up.

But all Balthazar does is nod. “Oh, I most definitely was. The things I could tell you that I did to your brother’s body and that he did to mine…”

“Please don’t,” Cas cringes and this time it isn’t so much pain as sheer terror.

Balthazar laughs. “Still a little stuck up, huh?”

Cas rubs his forehead. He’s got to give it to Balthazar. He has successfully managed to divert him from his impending panic attack. Consequently, Cas decides, “Coffee. We’re going to end up discussing sex lives anyway. So let’s not do that at a cemetery.”

“Ohhh,” Balthazar immediately latches on, “you have a sex life to discuss! Now that makes me curious! Come on, I know a place around the corner.”

The place around the corner turns out to be a nondescript coffee shop, vaguely modern stylish interior, overpriced lattes in too many taste combinations. Balthazar flirts his way through ordering, leaning too close to the barista, who obviously is either used to overbearing customers or knows Balthazar, because he laughs and playfully pushes him instead of getting annoyed like Cas would.

Still, something ugly and dark twists inside Cas at the sight. Like Balthazar’s flirting somehow means he’s cheating on Gabe. Of course that’s insane and Cas is not that far gone that he doesn’t know that it’s insane. But the only context he really knows Balthazar in is wrapped around Gabe while everyone in their vicinity is uncomfortable with their blatant PDA.

Cas had never been sure how much of that had really been Gabe being unable to keep his fingers off of Balthazar, and how much of it was proving to the world that he hadn’t changed. That the camp hadn’t changed him.

Only it had. It had fucked him up so much more than he let on.

Cas grits his teeth and is glad when Balthazar clears out so that he can order as well.

They find a table by the window, a little away from everyone else. It’s not crowded, fortunately.

They sip their coffee in silence for a while before Balthazar asks, “So, you still in contact with anyone?”

Cas shakes his head. “Missouri, a little. But none of the others.”

Balthazar nods. “I still see Inias every so often. And Alfie works in a shop downtown.”

Cas nods. He remembers them both. They’d both already been at Missouri’s when Cas and Gabe arrived. Balthazar, too. But he had aged out of the system a few days later. Cas had no idea how on Earth his brother and Balthazar had managed to hook up in that time. Especially after everything that Cas and Gabe had just been through.

“I try to keep in touch,” Balthazar says. “Make sure they’re okay, you know?”

Cas doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.

“I mean, they were at Missouri’s for a while. Seems to be a rule that the longer you were at Missouri’s, the better your outcome.” Balthazar grimaces.

Cas doesn’t really remember how long Balthazar had been at Missouri’s before they arrived. Not that long. He’d been too much trouble for his former home and then they’d thrown him out of a halfway house for trying to seduce every single guy there. Missouri’s had been a last ditch effort by the state, something to get him over the last few months before they could kick him out of the system for good.

“You were lucky,” Cas says. “She helped you set up.”

“I was,” Balthazar agrees. “I was lucky to meet him, too.”

He lets the sentence stand and Cas has no idea what to answer. Seems to him that it isn’t a particularly great piece of luck to meet someone you like and then have them commit suicide not even half a year later.

“It’s a stupid thing to say, probably, but he - I don’t know what it was, but I really liked him, Cassie - Cas. Like, in the whole I’m-going-to-miss-out-on-all-the-orgies-he-doesn’t-want-to-take-part-in way.”

Cas parses that for a moment. “Is that your way of saying that you were committed?”

“Yeah,” Balthazar nods. “I guess it is.”

Cas nods.

“How about you? Do you have someone?” Balthazar asks.

Cas doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Cas, prove me wrong about that stick up your ass.”

“Riling me didn’t work then, it won’t work now.” His angry tone probably proves him to be a liar, though. He makes an effort to soften his words. “There is someone. Or there was. But I’m not good for them, so I broke it off.”

“Them?” Balthazar’s eyebrows rise.

And Cas guesses he really ought to stop doing that. “Him,” he amends.

He’s not got that many problems with this in Kansas. It must be the collision of his new life and his old. His mother still lives in this city as well, after all. Not that he’s got any plans of even incidentally running into her.

But yeah, he’s spent years being vague about the gender of his partners when visiting his mother here while she put him through college. Anything to avoid another altercation. Though at least he was of age by that point and she couldn’t have put him back in a camp. Not that he thinks she would have. Not after Gabriel.

She’s never once admitted to her part in what happened, but she _had_ given Cas the money for an out-of-state college. Where she couldn’t control what he was doing - or more to the point, who he was doing. He guesses it’s the most remorse anyone had ever gotten from her.

“Cas? You still with me?” Balthazar’s expression is openly worried. “Seriously, I thought Missouri was exaggerating but now I think she was actually understating how screwed up you are.”

“Thanks,” Cas says drily though he’s not really got a leg to stand on.

“So, is it all Gabe? Or is it the mystery man?” Balthazar asks.

“Mostly, it’s me,” Cas sighs.

“How so?”

It’s eerie, somehow, to have his brother’s inappropriate boyfriend be all sensitive and ask him questions. But then, Cas doesn’t have anyone to talk to. His friends are all also Dean’s friends. Hell, he’s only ever met them all because he’d known Sam from work and Sam introduced him to them when they accidentally met each other at the bar some night.

So really, Balthazar probably is the only person he knows he can to talk about this.

“My boyfriend asked me to hurt him and I did.”

“Kinky,” Balthazar whistles through his teeth.

“No, not kinky. I mean, yes, also kinky. But it wasn’t - he didn’t ask for the right reasons and I shouldn’t have complied.”

“Okay?” Balthazar asks carefully.

“He was - he had the same expression that we had. After that camp. And then he asked me to and I -,” Cas shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to stop punishing him since.”

Balthazar tilts his head, staring at him like he’s puzzling him out beyond the top layer of words. “Does he know?”

Cas shakes his head, suddenly not able to meet Balthazar’s eyes. “He doesn’t even know Gabe exists.”

“Hmm,” Balthazar gives a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe that should be your place to start. Honesty. I mean, I get the casual thing and all, but the way your eyes and your face do this thing when you’re talking about him, I’m getting the feeling that it isn’t all that casual.”

“It isn’t,” Cas admits. “But…” But the sentence has no continuation.

“But what, Cas?” Balthazar’s voice has taken on a hard edge. “But you don’t want him to know that your own mother put you in a conversion camp? That they tried to electroshock you into being straight? That they had to put you in foster care?”

Balthazar has gotten louder with every sentence, leaning into Cas’ space. Cas doesn’t back down. There’s a white-hot spark in his gut, a small ball of anger that finds its way to the surface. “Maybe what I don’t want him to know is that it was my fault that we ended in the camp. That Gabriel would never have been there without me. Maybe I don’t want him to know that my brother killed himself because I was a stupid selfish asshole and couldn’t keep my mouth shut and my affairs private until we both were able to move out! Maybe I don’t want him to know that I still went back after all of that and that I still took her money to go to college!”

He’s out of breath at that point and out of words, too, so he stops.

“Dude,” Balthazar frowns. “You’re messed up.”

“I’m aware,” Cas bites.

“You’re also aware that Gabe didn’t blame you, right? Like, he was pretty vocal about his hatred for your Mom, but he’s never had anything but good words for you.”

“I didn’t deserve them.”

“Yeah, well, tough shit because I don’t give a flying fuck about that. He loved you and he didn’t blame you. So your opinion about it doesn’t matter.”

Cas wants to fume, wants to yell at Balthazar or possibly smash his smug face in but instead his eyes are burning with tears.

Balthazar sighs heavily. “Look, Cas, I’m not the most together person in the world, but even I see that you need to let this go. You need to stop blaming yourself for something you had no influence over at all.“

“I’m his brother. I was the only family he still had. I should have seen it coming.“ Because he should have, he should have known that happy goofy face was just one big facade. Cas of all people should have seen it. Isn’t like he isn’t wearing a mask every single day.

“Bull. Also, if you’re going down that road, you gotta blame me as well. I was with him almost every fucking day. He came by for a goodbye fuck, for God’s sake. You’d think I would have noticed, wouldn’t you? That that was what he was doing. Should have noticed earlier than in hindsight that he hadn’t -,” Balthazar breaks off.

“That he hadn’t?” Cas prompts him quietly.

“That he hadn’t ever said it before. _I love you._ ” Balthazar averts his eyes. “I guess it was his farewell present. He said _thank you_ , too. For being there for him. I thought he was getting better. I didn’t make the connection until after. So, yeah, Cassie, if you want to talk guilt, I’ve got some, too. But there was a darkness inside of him that no one could see. He was good at hiding it and if you ask me it was with him before all the shit that went down. At least that is what I believe.“

“He said goodbye to you,” Cas repeats, somewhat stunned. He hadn’t known that. “He didn’t with me. With me, he just chose me to…”

“To find him. Yeah, I thought that that was deliberate.” Balthazar sighs. “It’s because he trusted you to be able to take it, not because he wanted to punish you. And he knew that you knew him too well. You would have noticed, had he said goodbye. In opposition to me, you would have stopped him. And he didn’t want to be stopped.”

“How can you talk about this like it’s - the weather or something?” Cas accuses.

“Cause I’ve dealt with it,” Balthazar says with emphasis. “I’ve grieved and I went through all of the stupid five stages, and then I’ve grieved some more, and then I came out the other end of the tunnel knowing that I’m grateful that I met him. That I wouldn’t want to miss the time we got to have. While you, my friend, are stuck somewhere between denial and anger still. Which you know, unhealthy.”

“I just - I don’t know what to do.” There’s the sudden emptiness that’s always there when the anger leaves.

“Personal opinion? Start by acknowledging he existed. Tell your mystery man about him. Write it on a postcard if you have to. But let Gabe be a part of your life. He deserves to be.“


	4. Equal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean receives an unexpected letter.

> Hello Dean.
> 
> Let me start this off with the most important part:
> 
> I am sorry. I hurt you and I’m sorry for it.
> 
> I’m sorry for that night, the night when you came to me after having visited John. And before you say it, I know I did nothing but what you asked me to do. I know that you didn’t call red and that I would have stopped had you done so. The thing is, I should have called red. Not even because you were drunk, though I should have known better than to accept your request while you weren’t at full mental capacity. No, I should have called red that night and then at every subsequent meeting that we had any interaction at all because I was in no condition to be anything to you. Not your boyfriend, not even your ex-boyfriend, and most definitely not someone who you give up control to.
> 
> I am profoundly sorry that I did not do what I should have done and either talked to you or stayed away.
> 
> None of this makes much sense to you probably, and that is my fault as well. I have ripped up five versions of this letter already and I still don’t find the right words. My mind keeps telling me that the smart thing for you to do is to stay as far away from me as you can and that I shouldn’t undermine that by writing to you.
> 
> But my heart tells me that you deserve an explanation. I don’t expect you to answer and I will understand if you want to nothing to do with me anymore. In fact, as I said, my mind welcomes it as the smarter choice, and my heart doesn’t get a say in this matter.
> 
> I want to protect you, Dean, and I will protect you from myself if I have to.
> 
> I’ve stared at this version of the letter for half an hour now, trying to find the words to tell you what you need to know. And I can’t. I wish I had a picture. A picture might tell you more than my words can. But I have none of the old photos in this city. I know people who do, but I fear that if I get up and leave the house to ask them to lend them to me, my courage to write you will be gone. So I’ll make you a deal. If you want to, if you still feel like I am worthy of your time, or if you want closure for a relationship gone wrong - you know which neighbor has my spare key. I’ll write them a message so that they expect that you may come by to get it from them.
> 
> There is a box in my closet. You’ll have to dig to find it, I’ve buried it under everything else. It won’t look like much, it’s just an old shoe box. But it is my past. Go there and get it. Look through the contents and dissect them as you please. Ask me what you need to ask. I never wanted to keep secrets from you. I just never had the words.
> 
> Yours (even though I shouldn’t be),
> 
> Cas.

 

Dean stares at the letter flabbergasted and forces his heart to stop tumbling in his chest. He’s expected bills in the mail, not this. Whatever this is. He starts at the top again and re-reads the letter. Punctuates reading with little muttered “ _Idjit_ ”s this time whenever the tone of the letter is too self-deprecating for Dean’s taste.

It’s not a love letter. It’s not a Dear John letter, either. It isn’t even an explanation because it explains nothing.

Dean lets his fingers glide over the word _yours_ , written as neatly as Cas’ sloppy handwriting will ever get. There is something about the word. Dean lets his eyes fly over the words again, tries to figure out what’s nagging at him.

_My fault… stay far away… protect you… closure… relationship gone wrong… yours..._

It’s incongruent. It doesn’t fit.

Then it hits him. That last word is not for Dean. Or it is, because Dean is the recipient of the letter, but it’s the one word that isn’t carefully tailored to be for him. That isn’t Cas trying to give Dean what he needs.

“Your heart doesn’t have a say in the matter, huh?” Dean mutters. “You keep telling yourself that buddy.”

He reads the letter again. Allowing himself to feel the pull in his stomach this time. Allows himself get caught up in the words and his heart to connect.

Charlie would frown at him for it. She wouldn’t call him outright stupid, not the same way some of his other friends would. She knows after all. Has cornered him after that night when Cas said goodbye and dragged the whole story out of him. Including an explanation of their dynamics.

She hadn’t been extremely thrilled. Oh, she was fine with the concept itself, had, as it turned out, more experience in that particular kind of relationship than he’d expected, but...

_“Self-preservation, Dean. You ever heard about the concept? It’s one thing to like pain in your play, and another thing altogether to let an ex beat you up.”_

_“He didn’t.”_

_“Because you dodged.”_

_“Which he knew I would do.”_

_“And if he had told you to hold still?”_

Dean hadn’t answered that one.

_“See, that’s what I mean. You’re broken up. You can’t let him keep doing this.”_

Dean grimaces at the memory. They had agreed to disagree that day. Mainly, because Dean didn’t want to stop. Yeah, it might not be the healthiest reaction on the planet but he honestly wasn’t afraid of Cas.

Only now he looks over the letter and for the first time, he thinks Charlie might have been right. Not even because of Dean. But because of Cas.

Who is a control freak, yes, and likes to be dominant, yes, and has no issues inflicting wanted pain. But looking at the letter, every hesitant line, every word that was visibly shaky screams at Dean that Cas is scared.  

_I will protect you from myself if I have to._

The concept needs a moment to sink in.

Dean’s known that Cas doesn’t always trust himself. That he keeps a tight leash on his emotions. He hadn’t known any of this.

Suddenly, their dynamic seems unfair. He’s put everything on Cas’ shoulders. Trusting Cas as he did, Dean had stopped making decisions. He’d given them all to Cas. And he’d become someone to care for, someone to be protected. Without being a support in return.

The epiphany leaves him dizzy. And not in a good way. Then it makes him angry. How had he not seen this before?

With a yell, he rips off the wristband.

No wonder that they’ve become a failed relationship. Neither of them has been good for the other.

“Fuck.” What a clusterfuck of a situation.

And he’s still got no idea what Cas is talking about in most of his letter. He’ll have to go figure it out.

If that’s what he wants.

If he thinks they can be someone good for each other after all.

Because if there’s one thing Dean knows, it’s that he’s not going to rip open any of Cas’ old wounds for closure.

But then, it sounds like Cas’ wounds have already been ripped open.

Dean deflates. That’s his fault.

“Ah fuck,” he repeats. Defeated, this time.

But obviously, he can’t let that stand. He can’t not at least make an offer to help.

He reaches for his phone, makes a picture of the wristband and attaches it to a message.

_Dean @Cas: I’m not throwing it out. But I took it off. New start. Equals. No power dynamics for now. Let me know if you want that. If you do, I’ll go by your apartment on Saturday._

He sends it before he can think about it too long because his stomach is tying itself into knots already. He doesn’t think Cas’ affection is based on Dean’s submission. It plays a role, yes, but Dean’s never thought that Cas doesn’t value him as a person beyond that dynamic.

But proposing it, proposing to break with everything that they were before - Dean’s not sure that Cas wants that.  

So he is too nervous to do anything but keep his phone in hand and wait for it to beep with an incoming message, well aware that Cas doesn’t know that he got his letter and that it’s quite possible that he has better things to do than to sit next to his phone and wait for a message from Dean.

Every second that ticks by makes the ache in Dean’s stomach worse. He might be wrong about Cas wanting his support beyond what he can give him by following his lead.

Still, with the epiphany he’s just had, Dean thinks it is the only way. What they did before didn’t work. They need a new start. If they can do that, they can work from there. Can probably even get back to playing eventually. Which he wants. Of course he wants that. Cas is fucking hot when he gives orders. Dean’s mouth is dry just thinking about it. And oh, Cas knows all of Dean’s kinks and he knows how to use them to turn play into the most delicious torture.

Dean groans. That torture is so much more delicious than the slow forward crawl of seconds while he’s waiting for a reply. He lights up his phone again, checking for a new message that isn’t there.

He resists the urge to bang his head against the table. Instead, he sends a quick message.

_Dean @Charlie: Cas wrote me. A frikking letter on actual paper. It’s not even typed._

And because he might as well fess up immediately he adds:

_Dean @Charlie: I texted him._

_Charlie @Dean: Oh Dean...You sure about this?_

_Dean @Charlie: I texted him this. [attached screenshot]_

_Charlie @Dean: That makes me feel marginally better. It would be the wrong answer to say GOOD BOY, huh?_

_Dean @Charlie: Ha ha. He hasn’t answered yet._

His phone dings several times in rapid succession.

_Cas @Dean: I didn't and don't expect anything from you. It’s your decision, I don't want you to feel like you have to go._

_Charlie @Dean: He’ll answer. He likes you. Only reason I haven’t tried to find him and sic the hounds on him yet._

_Cas @Dean: But yes, a new start sounds appropriate. If you really still want that after... everything._

Dean stares at the messages for a moment. Cas sounds - formal. Timid. It weirds him out. Cas is a lot of things, but mostly those are things like blunt and to the point. Or, if you look at them in a more negative light, a little arrogant and harsh. He isn’t - timid.

_Dean @Cas: Yes, I really still want you._

He types it and deletes it again. He’s sure that it is what Cas had been asking. He’s not sure he should be answering it at this point.

_Dean @Cas: you okay, man? you sound off._

_Cas @Dean: Define okay._

_Dean @Cas: just ‘okay’. not in any danger of harming yourself._

There’s a long pause after that that makes Dean worry more than anything else today.

_Charlie @Dean: You still there?_

_Dean @Charlie: Yeah. He’s replying. But something is wrong._

_Dean @Cas: You have me worried, man. Please answer._

_Cas @Dean: I’m not in any danger of harming myself. Thank you for asking._

_Cas @Dean: I’m not good, either, but I don’t think it’s dangerous._

_Cas @Dean: I am not used to being frank about negative feelings. I’m sorry._

_Dean @Cas: You can tell me, you know that, right?_

_Cas @Dean. Yes. Don't worry about me. Just let me know when you went to my place. If you go._

_Dean @Cas: I’m gonna let you know when I’m there. That okay? Not going to go through your shit without you at least knowing._

The phone rings with the Darth Vader theme. If he doesn’t pick up, he’s going to have one seriously pissed off little sister. So he picks up.

“Hey, Charles.”

“Tell me everything! Right now!”

“Not a good time, Charles.”

“There is no better time than the present. He can wait for five minutes.”

Dean groans, while Charlie chuckles.

She still got a smile in her voice, when she says,, “Okay, so I’d have thought you’d be more freaked. A month of radio silence and then what - a letter detailing his endless love to you?”

“A little more than three weeks. Not a month. And no, no love confessions.”

“No love confessions?” Charlie’s voice sobers. “But you’re okay?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He’s not saying he doesn’t love me, either. It’s just more about him than us, you know? Whatever it is.”

“Uhh, no, I do not know, actually.”

Dean can hear her shaking her head.

He tries to explain, “Whatever got him this freaked out, it’s not about him and me. I mean, I think it’s my fault that it came up. But it isn’t - a commitment crisis or something. He knew I was screwed up. Even before that night. It wasn’t like that was big news. The thing that happened…”, he shrugs and trails off.

“You think it triggered him. Like in the PTSD sense of the word,” Charlie muses.

“Yeah,” Dean nods because that word seems to fit.

“Okay,” she agrees. “Okay, I can understand that. Is that why you took the wristband off?”

“Yeah. I guess,” he shrugs.

“Not good enough, Dean.”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously? Chick flick practice? Right now?”

“It’s called talking about your feelings. And we agreed that you need more training in that.”

“I hate you.”

“So, you’ve told me, repeatedly. Now. An in-depth answer please.”

He makes a face at his phone but he he also makes the effort and tries to sort his thoughts. “I’m not his. Not right now, anyway. Don’t think it is what he needs, either. He’s got enough trouble keeping himself from falling apart. So I’m going to see whether I can help with that. Not as his…”

“Submissive?” Charlie prompts.

“Significant other. I was gonna say significant other,” Deans sighs. “But yeah, the other thing, too. I’m gonna try to be, you know, just someone who cares about him and wants him to be okay. Cause I do, you know. Care about him.”

“Yeah, Dean, I know.” He isn’t sure whether she sounds happy about it. “Dean? You know that you don’t need him, right? You’ve been doing good in the past few weeks. You can be happy without him.”

Definitely not happy about it, then. “We’ve been over this, Charles,” Dean says tiredly. “It’s not about need. Not the way Sammy needed me when he was a kid, anyway. I want him in my life. And yeah, in the end that includes wanting to be his. But, you know, not right now. There’s no endgame right now. Just, I think it’s important to him. To share the shit he always kept close to his chest. He wouldn’t have written if he didn’t.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” she says dubiously.

That makes him chuckle again. “I obviously don’t. I never do. Doesn’t usually stop me.”

“How could I forget. You’re a Winchester after all.”

They both chuckle, the teasing comfortable like a well-worn blanket.

“Call me whenever you need to talk, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“No, not sure thing. Actually do it, Dean. Don’t carry this on your own.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” he smiles. If nothing else, he’s made a good choice in his best friend.

“Yeah, well, other people love you, too, you moron.”

He smirks. “Was that you admitting that you think he loves me?”

“I never said that!”

“But you meant it.”

“Fuck off.”

He outright laughs. “Yeah, I love you, too, cupcake.”

“I know, lover boy.”

They both chuckle some more, comfortable with each other again.

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Take care.”

By the time he hangs up, his phone is blinking furiously.

_Cas @Dean: Okay._

_Cas @Dean: It’s good to talk to you._

_Cas @Dean: Though I also dread it._

_Cas @Dean: Can you tell me when you’ll go?_

_Cas @Dean: Never mind. It is your choice._

_Cas @Dean: Dean?_

_Cas @Dean: Dean are you there?_

_Cas @Dean: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t dread talking to you. I just - I dread talking about my past._

_Cas @Dean: Dean, please. Please don’t be gone, Dean._

_Cas @Dean: I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry. I should leave you alone._

_Cas @Dean: Just tell me if you decide not to go. Or when you go. Please. I don’t think I will eat or sleep before that day._

_Cas @Dean: Not that I’m - no self-harm. I promise._

_Cas @Dean: I will shut up now._

That’s where the string of messages ends. Dean feels frantic just reading it. He types quickly.

_Dean @Cas: Charlie called. That’s why I was gone. Not because of what you said._

_Dean @Cas: Are you sure you’re okay?_

_Cas @Dean: Yes. No. I’m not okay. But I will be. I’ll feel better after - after you know._

_Cas @Dean: I’m sorry, I can’t. I want to talk to you but._

_Dean@Cas: Saturday morning. I’ll go Saturday morning._

He can feel the ball of dread forming in his stomach already. Whatever it is that he’s going to find, it’s not going to be good.


	5. Freaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is a bit freaked out.

Cas stares at his phone and wishes the last messages away. The urge to throw the phone against the wall is huge and it takes more willpower than he wants to admit not to do it.

He makes himself take deep breaths. No violence. Nothing uncontrolled. Get your emotions in check.

He growls frustratedly when that doesn’t help to calm him down. Just like when he was at Missouri’s, the more he tries to get back control, the more it slips away from him.

Why did he listen to Balthazar in the first place? Why did he send the letter? Why is Saturday so far away? He’s going to freak out for the whole fucking time until then. 

And Dean will see. 

Cas’ knees give out and he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor. 

Dean will see how little he can actually offer. How broken he is. 

Dean’s brother is still alive. He managed to protect him and keep him safe. 

Cas has failed. 

He couldn’t protect his brother, and once Dean knows, Dean will be gone, too. 

_ New start. Equals. No power dynamics.  _

But it isn’t even about that. Cas doesn’t cherish and protect Dean because of that. Cas cherishes and protects Dean because Dean deserves it. And there’s no one in his life as far as Cas can see who is giving Dean that. 

Though Cas hasn’t done a stellar job of it, especially not after they were broken up. 

He sees himself elbowing Dean. It’s not a surprise attack, and it’s slow enough that he knows Dean will get out from under it.

But he had sworn himself no violence, no aggression. Don’t use any of the bad ways you’ve learned how to make someone submit. 

Not that he’d ever had to make Dean do anything. Dean had always given freely. A gift to Cas that he had abused.

Cas’ stomach turns and he buries his face in his hands. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers and it sounds as broken as he feels. 

Why hadn’t he been able to stop? If he didn’t want to hurt Dean, then he should have been able to stop. 

_ Trust and hope and adoration.  _ Cas had been awful to Dean, and the reaction he had seen in Dean’s eyes had always been the same. 

Maybe it had been that. Maybe he had wanted to show Dean that all of that trust and hope was misplaced. That Cas was a fraud, who spins out of control the minute something gets too close to the places he doesn’t look at. 

Well, he’s gonna get exposed now, Cas thinks grimly. And he’ll finally get his wish to see the trust and the hope and the adoration disappear from Dean’s eyes. 

He wipes fervently at his own eyes that have started to burn. 

So okay, maybe he had not wanted them to disappear after all. Maybe he had known all along that the way he was going about it was not going to change a thing. 

Only now he has fucked up. He can’t take back the letter or the messages. 

Though he could still tell Dean not to go. Dean wouldn’t go if Cas told him he had changed his mind. Cas could also tell his neighbor not to give Dean the key. 

But no. Dean deserves to know. And Cas deserves the way Dean will be looking at him after. 

Even if Balthazar seems to think things will go differently. 

Cas laughs drily. Who would have thought that he’d trust Balthazar with something like this one day?

_ “You seriously let this assbutt touch you?” Cas scowled after Balthazar. _

_ “Ass and butt are both good words that lead to fun times, I have no idea why you insist on using them as an insult, Cassie,” Gabriel smirked.  _

_ “You’re actually,” Cas lowers his voice to a frantic whisper, “fucking this guy?” He’d not expected that. Fondling and inappropriate remarks, yeah, but the other thing?  _

_ Gabriel looked at him strangely. Then his mouth set in a hard line. “Mostly, he’s fucking me. And I don’t care if you think it’s disgusting, but I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinion to yourself.” _

Only, Gabe had cared. And Cas hadn’t done enough to convince him that that wasn’t at all what Cas was feeling. Yeah, he didn’t get Gabriel’s infatuation with the smug British guy, but mostly, he was scared. Scared what would happen if Gabe fell in love. Scared that it wouldn’t work out and leave him more broken. Scared that it would work out and their Mom would find out. Scared that someone would hurt Gabe again. Scared also that Cas would be left behind while Gabe rode into the sunset. 

Well, the left behind part had happened and thinking back now, it feels exceptionally stupid to be worried about Gabe finding love. 

Thing is, back then Cas couldn’t even imagine it. Couldn’t understand that Gabe had actually found someone important, because love didn’t seem like an option. Fucking, yeah, Cas knew that existed. But between his mother, his natural disposition to not fall for anyone easily and everything that happened at the camp, he hadn’t even considered love to be an option for himself. It was safer to stay alone. To not trust anyone. 

Missouri had been the one to try and coax him out of that mindset. In hindsight, he can see how patient she had been with him. How gentle she was in showing him every day that it was okay to be himself in his new home. 

Sometimes he wonders who he’d be if he had been allowed to stay. If like Balthazar, he’d gotten to age out of the system at his Granny’s house. Instead of having to sneak Christmas cards because his mother didn’t permit any contact with the  _ foster witch _ .

But then, he might have stayed here if he’d stayed at Missouri’s. Might have come to have a life in this city. And that means he would never have met Sam and in turn would never have met Dean. 

And even with the way it all broke apart, he doesn’t want that. 

He’s grateful for every moment that he’d gotten with Dean. For every time that he was allowed to touch him. Even though it’s mingled with guilt. His heart aches with a sudden fierce hope that Dean feels the same. Or that at least Cas didn’t leave him any more broken than he was. That one day Dean will look back at them and shake his head at how messed up his ex-boyfriend was, but will also remember the good times with a smile and some nostalgia. 

“I’m such an idiot,“ Cas cries into his hands and makes himself as small as he can. 

If he’d just managed to keep it together. If he’d just managed to separate his own issues from Dean’s. If he’d just managed to keep Dean from getting under his skin. Then he could have been there for him, then he wouldn’t have fucked everything up. 

He’s crying for real now and he doesn’t have the energy to wipe away the tears. 

As usual, he’s made everything worse. He’s got no idea how to get through the next days. How to eat and drink and sleep and pretend that life is okay when he’s found love and he’s in the process of losing it. 

Missouri had tried to show him that he could be loved. But somehow, he’d never believed it. 

And when he’d met Dean, everything had changed but that hadn’t changed and then he’d started falling for Dean and then he’d loved him and - Cas breaks down into sobs. He’d loved him and he hadn’t been able to cope anymore.   


_ “One step at a time, sweetheart.” _

He hears Missouri’s voice in his mind. 

_ “You move forward one step at a time. That’s how everyone does it.” _

“But I don’t know the direction,” Cas whispers. “How do I even know what is the right direction? How do I know that I’m not fucking up completely?”

The Missouri in his mind stays quiet but she smiles at him like he already knows the answer. 

Cas groans and hides his face again. “What if I don’t want that? What if I don’t want him to see me like this? What if I don’t want anyone to see me like this?” 

But that’s just it, isn’t it? If he wants someone - if he wants  _ Dean _ to love him, to really love him, to love all of him, he has to show him everything. Including all the ugly parts that he wants to keep hidden. He has to put his trust in Dean not to destroy him even though he’s giving him the tools to do just that. 

It feels fucking awful. 

And yet, in that way, he has done the right thing. Has taken a step in the right direction, writing that letter. 

Still, he can’t help but hate this feeling of helplessness. 

Suddenly, the empty walls of the small apartment feel oppressive. He can’t sit here and stare into nothing for even a second longer. He has his phone in hand and is dialing before he can think about it. 

“Hello?”

“Granny? It’s Cas.”

“You don’t sound too good, sweetheart.”

“I - I would like to invite you out for lunch. Right now. If you have the time.” He stumbles over his words and his voice still sounds teary so he makes himself talk faster to get it out. 

 

Half an hour later they’re in a small diner, ten minutes walk from Missouri’s house. Cas has calmed down at least a little. The diner is decorated in a 50s style that looks like most of the props are actually from the 50s and lovingly kept up instead of having been bought new in the new millennium. 

Dean would love this place. 

As soon as the thought comes, Cas tries to repress it. He’s not going to get to show the diner to Dean, so thinking about it makes no sense. 

Still, when the waitress comes to take their orders, he almost doesn’t get the words out and has to repeat his order for the waitress to understand. “A cheeseburger and a milkshake, please.”

Missouri orders the same and waits until the waitress is gone before she asks, “What happened, love?” 

It’s not what she wants to know but it’s the closest that Cas can get to right now. “We’d do this for dates. Go find a lovely diner. Order burgers and milkshakes.”

“You and your One?” 

Cas averts his eyes. “Dean. His name is Dean.” He doesn’t refute the claim that Dean is his One. 

Missouri smiles kindly but she doesn’t let go. “When did you know?” 

Cas doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. He’s going to lose Dean. If he hasn’t yet, he will on Saturday. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Missouri takes his hand. “It’s not easy for any of us.”

“You don’t…”  _ understand _ , is what he wants to say. But it’s his Granny and she always understands more than he gives her credit for. So he wraps his other hand around hers as well and let’s her soothe him. 

“Tell me about him, then. Tell me how you met.”

Cas smiles weakly. “We met on a particularly bad day.”

Missouri smiles encouragingly and squeezes his hands.

“I had this obnoxious client who was obviously into me and I had to play nice because he had money. So I went to the bar with him and oh God, it was such a disaster.” Cas shudders. He’d spent most of the night alternately dodging wandering hands and declining alcohol. “And then, finally, finally, the client had to go because he had an early flight and we said our goodbyes and all I wanted to do was go home and shower and forget about everything... “ Against his will, he smiles, the memory taking him over. “So I went to wash my hands and then I wanted to go and…”

_ “Cas!” Sam jogged up next to him, slapping him on the shoulder. “Thought it was you! Date?” _

_ “Oh God, no,” Cas shuddered. “Work. Purely work.” _

_ Sam laughed a booming laugh. “Hey, he wasn’t that bad looking. I mean, not that I’m the best person to judge that, but - Dean, what do you say?” _

_ For the first time, Cas became aware of the guy standing next to Sam. And really, how had he not noticed him before? He was after all, taller than Cas himself. Instinctively, he straightened up, decreased the height difference between them as much as he could. He let his eyes roam, took in the well-built shoulders, the lovely hips. Took also in the way the other guy’s - Dean’s? - lips has slightly parted and the way his eyes were glued to Cas’ face, dropping shortly to Cas’ lips before finding his eyes and holding his gaze again. Cas allowed himself a smirk then, and marvelled at the way it made the other guy’s cheeks tint red.  _

_ “Dean!” Sam nudged him in the ribs and broke the moment.  _

_ “I - what?” Dean shook his head, obviously completely oblivious to the question he had been asked.  _

_ And oh yeah, Cas’ evening had just gotten 100% better.  _

“I joined them for another drink and we talked until the bar closed.” Cas is still smiling, the memory of how Dean had kept blatantly staring at him for the whole night but had been rendered mostly incoherent when asked a direct question a fond one.

Missouri looks at him knowingly and Cas blushes. 

“How long did it take  _ you _ ? To fall for him?”

It’s a rephrase of the question before but somehow now it’s easier to answer. “Longer than it took him. He’s - he’s been hurt, too, but he still gives his heart freely. I wish I - I wish I knew how to do that.”

“Good boy,” Missouri mumbles and pats his hand. 

Cas chuckles unhappily. “You’re aware that I don’t know how, right?”

“I think you’re doing great,” Missouri says confidently. “Have you told him yet?”

How does she even know about that? Then it hits him, “Balthazar blabbed, didn’t he?”

Missouri smiles. “He’s always been quick on the uptake. Too smart for his own good, sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. So, did you?” Suddenly her eyes are laser-sharp and Cas notices that Missouri hadn’t asked once. He hadn’t contacted her in weeks and now they were sitting here and apart from her initial question about what happened, she hadn’t asked about either the silence or the sudden wish to meet. 

“Do I even have to tell you?” Cas asks. “Don’t you already know?”

She chuckles softly but she comes straight to the point when she says, “I think you made a start. And it’s freaking you out because you’re not used to trusting anyone with your heart.”

It’s way too close and it makes his mouth go dry but he nods with the resignation of not being able to lie to her anyway. Which of course is the exact reason why he had wanted to meet in the first place. 

“As I said,” Missouri smiles and pulls her hands away from his as their food arrives. “You’re doing great. And now, eat. You need it. And you can do it, even if you think you can’t.”

Cas fervently hopes that that’s a metaphor for his whole life and that he can actually get through Saturday.


	6. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday is finally rolling around and Dean goes to find Cas past.

Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself. 

Only possibly that was the worst thing he could do, because taking a deep breath, he’s suddenly not only surrounded by Cas’ smell, but it virtually floods into him. The feeling is so visceral that he starts coughing, even while he wants to cling on and soak it all in. 

Something about smell being closer to the brainstem, more instinctual, less conscious input. He’s sure he read something about that at some point. 

Not that he remembers it now. But he remembers that he should be closing the door behind himself, so he gives it a kick and it falls shut. 

It’s immediately utterly silent. He swallows heavily. He’s been here alone before, but that was usually in the morning, when Cas jumped up early, getting fresh food for their breakfast while allowing Dean to sleep in for a little while. Pampering him, whether it was because they’d done an intense scene the night before or just because Cas liked to pamper Dean. 

Now, the silence grates on Dean as something unnatural.

He shudders and makes his legs move away from the door, just to get on with it. 

A quick look around the kitchen and the living room reveals nothing out of the ordinary. There are a few books that Dean hasn’t seen before, a few new DVDs, but all in all, Cas’ apartment is unchanged from how Dean remembers it. 

Apart from the fact that Cas is missing. 

Dean turns quickly when it feels like someone is standing behind him, but no, there’s nothing but empty air. 

“Get a grip,” he scolds himself. “It’s not a haunted house, it’s only Cas’ place.”

But then, maybe the difference isn’t too big. Not when he thinks of the frantic messages and the silence following after. 

He’s told Cas he’d tell him when he’s here. So he lets his feet guide him to the bedroom while he fumbles for his phone. 

_ Dean @Cas: I’m here.  _

He doesn’t really know what else to say.

The bed is made, light blue sheets, a little boring but soft to touch. Dean doesn’t have to touch them to know. He’s intimately acquainted with all of Cas’ sheets. He purposely averts his eyes from the cabinet that stores most of their playthings - Cas’ playthings he should say. 

A short flash of white hot jealousy runs through him at the thought of Cas using them on someone else. 

But he stomps down on it relentlessly. It’s Dean who is here. It’s Dean who Cas has written a letter to. It’s Dean who he wants to share his past with. That counts for something. And Dean isn’t here because he wants to win Cas back, Dean is here for Cas. End of discussion. 

_ Dean @Cas: I’m in front of the closet. I’m going to wait until you answer me. Are you sure you want me to do this? _

Dean wants to sit down on the bed but he doesn’t. Cas knew he was going to be here this morning. Unless Cas has changed his mind, Dean won’t have to wait long. 

And indeed, it’s barely a minute when Dean’s phone chirps with an incoming message. 

_ Cas @Dean: Do it already.  _

“Get it over with quick, huh? Like ripping a bandaid off.” But the joke falls flat in the still air of the room. 

So Dean takes a deep breath and opens the closet. He doesn’t have to rummage much. Yeah, the box is buried at the bottom of Cas’ pile of winter clothes, but Cas is too much of a neat freak not to have sorted even that. 

_ Dean @Cas: I’ve got the box. Do you want me to open it here? _

_ Cas @Dean: Do with it what you want. But - please be careful if you take it outside. This is all I’ve got left.  _

Dean frowns at the message and decides to stay in the bedroom. He puts the box on the bed and sits down next to it. Ever so carefully, he pulls off the lid. 

Underneath, there is a pile of photos and documents. Dean takes the top few out. One shows what he thinks is Cas as a baby, the next is a newspaper clipping and the third is a picture of a cat. 

Where everything else in the apartment is neat and orderly, this box feels like someone shoved every photo and document they found into it in a great hurry and then never looked at it again. 

Dean takes out another photo because this one looks like Cas. Teenage Cas to be precise. 

Dean frowns, because teenage Cas looks like grown-up Cas, only teenage Cas looks so fucking unhappy that it reminds Dean of his own childhood photos. With the difference that Sam had already been almost as tall as Dean at 14, while the guy next to Cas is a head shorter and Dean doubts that he’s younger. Dean would say boyfriend, only the picture is of what looks like a church picnic and he's reasonably sure that there's a no boyfriends rule at church picnics. 

The next picture shows Cas with the same guy, though. They are both a little younger than in the other picture and they look uncomfortable in their stiff white shirts and ironed pants, though they both wear a polite fake smile. 

_ Dean @Cas: dude, you have a brother?  _

Because that is the only explanation that he can come up with. He makes a picture of the photo and attaches it to the message. 

_ Cas @Dean: His name is Gabriel.  _

_ Cas @Dean: was.  _

_ Cas @Dean: There should be an article to explain.  _

The tone is clipped and Dean wishes he could discern the emotion behind it. ‘ _ Was’  _ doesn’t sound good. 

Instead of asking or trying to decipher it, Dean does as Cas told him and searches for the newspaper article that he's put to the side in favor of looking at the photos.

_ Local teen rescued in CPS raid of so called “Save Your Soul Camp“ commits suicide. _

The article itself is short but it’s clear enough what that camp was all about. The text doesn't mention names but with the knowledge he's now got it's easy enough to deduct that the article is talking about Cas’ brother. It mentions Cas, too. Apparently Child Protective Services found them at the camp together. Or rather, together but not allowed to see each other or talk to each other for fear of them “re-infecting” each other. 

For a moment, Dean is so angry that he literally sees red. He puts the paper down on the bed for fear of otherwise ripping it into pieces. 

How can anyone do that to someone else? How can a parent do that to their kid?

The article doesn't give any answers. It doesn't mention any family beyond Cas and his brother. Who put them in there? If CPS got them out, then it wasn’t the state who put them in. 

Cas has a Mom, Dean knows that, though he’s mentioned her only in relation to college money and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever visited her. Then there’s the granny he’s visiting right now. But he wouldn’t visit her if she did this, right? He’s not punishing himself for being who he is. 

Cas doesn’t hate himself for being queer. Dean doesn’t think so at least. It’s always been Dean who has struggled with being open about his sexuality, thanks to his Dad and the way he grew up. 

Dean takes the photo of teenage Cas and his brother again. With the new knowledge, they look more frightened than anything. Even though it comes over as unhappy and shy with Cas, while Gabriel tries at an obnoxious smirk. 

_ Dean @Cas: can I call you? _

Because somehow Dean doesn't think this can be dealt with via texts. 

Instead of an answer, after a minute, his phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. He hits the  _ take call _ button.

“Hey Cas,“ he says softly, not really sure how to greet him right this second. They haven’t talked since that night when Cas left. It seems to be a lifetime ago.

“Dean.“ It’s quiet and scared. Like he expects Dean to be angry and braces himself for the inevitable.   


Dean’s heart immediately aches. “I'm here. I'm still here, Cas.“ He doesn't even know whether he means here in the apartment or here for Cas or here with Cas. A bit of everything, probably. “He's so much blonder than you.“

It's a dumb thing to say but it gets a surprised noise out of Cas. “He's shorter, too.“

“Yeah, he’s no Moose,” Dean chuckles.

It’s answered with silence. And yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to remind Cas that Dean still has a brother while he apparently doesn’t. 

Unless... “Is he your only brother?” Dean asks. 

After a moment of hesitation, Cas answers, “The only one who counts.”

“So you had another brother?”

“Have.” It sounds unwilling, like he doesn’t like to be reminded. “Two. But they’re not - you’ll find a photo or two of them somewhere, probably, but they’re not - brothers. Not the way Gabe and I were.”

“How come?” Dean asks gently, mostly to keep Cas talking. He has missed his voice.   


“For starters, they’re ten years older. They’re twins and they were - not exactly planned. My parents married because of it.”

“I see,” Dean nods. He wants to ask after Cas’ father and whether he’s still in the picture, but Cas already keeps talking. 

“By the time I was old enough to be consciously aware, they were in boarding school. They were strangers who came home for Christmas.”

“Did you go to boarding school?” Dean asks. He can’t remember Cas ever mentioning that. 

“No,” Cas answers. “No, Gabe and I, we got to stay home...” He trails off. 

“Would you have wanted to? Go to boarding school?” Dean’s never thought about it, but now he got a feeling that it might have been the lesser of two evils. 

“Missouri’s. If I’d have had the choice, that’s where I would have stayed.” It’s the first time there is no hesitation in Cas’ voice. 

“Yeah? Who’s Missouri?” Dean smiles because there’s some place Cas would have liked to stay and at this point that’s better than expected. 

“My Granny. She’s not really my grandma. She was my foster mom. For a while there. After…”

“... after the cops pulled you out of that camp.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah,” Cas confirms and the slight smile that was in his voice is gone again. 

“My Uncle Bobby’s,” Dean says. “That’s where I would have liked to stay. I kinda daydreamed about it a lot. Sammy would have had his own room, and so would I. And Bobb couldn’t cook for shit, but he’d let me help and together we would manage something edible. And Bobby had like -,” Dean breaks off. He’s here because Cas asked him to, not to chat Cas’ ear off with his own sad story. 

But Cas apparently sees that differently. “He had like?” he prompts.

“He had like food in the fridge. Always. Enough of it to feed everyone.” Dean blushes when he admits it. Though he’s told the outline of his childhood to Cas, it’s not a time he particularly likes talking about. 

“We always had that,” Cas says, though it sounds toneless and not like a happy memory. “We had food and a house and enough money. We never had to live out of a car."

Dean isn’t sure what it’s supposed to prove. That Cas has no right to complain because he lived in a house? "CPS put you in a foster home, Cas. That alone should tell you that food and a roof over your head is not enough."

"It's more than you had."

"My Dad never put me in a conversion camp."

"Because he didn't know."

Dean grunts noncommittally because that’s not quite wrong and not quite true. His Dad had known, every so often, beat him up for it, drunk too much and then promptly decided to forget again. 

“‘S not the only thing my Dad’s an asshole about,” he finally shrugs. And isn’t that the truth. There are so many things his Dad is disappointed in Dean for that the part where he likes to be fucked by other guys is only one among many. “Have a feeling he wouldn’t have done it either way. He was not gonna spend good money to send me to a place where I could meet more  _ queers _ .” He pronounces it like a slur. 

“It wasn’t - it wasn’t like that. The meeting part.” Cas is back to being very quiet and stopping in the middle of sentences. Like it takes effort to get the words out. “Every interaction was monitored. And they locked you into your room at night.”

“Sounds like a prison.” Dean shudders.

Cas doesn’t answer for such a long time that it’s only because Dean can still hear him breathing on the other end of the line that he doesn’t think Cas hung up. 

“I got off easy.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Gabe was… he never knew when to shut up. They… I got off easy.”

“Cas…” Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s okay, Dean.” 

It sounds anything but. Dean’s got the urge to hold Cas tight and physically stay with him until that horrible hollowness has left his voice.   


“Close your eyes,” he says. 

“What?”

“You’re not in charge anymore, remember? So just do it. You got your eyes closed?”

“Yeah?” It sounds confused. But confused is better than hollow. 

“Now imagine that I’m right there. I’m sitting next to you and I’m wrapping my arms around you and I‘m holding you close.”

It’s insufficient. It’s so fucking insufficient. But there’s a muffled sob, quickly suppressed. 

“That’s alright, Cas. I’m here. You can lean on me.”

Cas starts sobbing for real then, and Dean’s heart aches. He closes his eyes as well, snatching Cas’ pillow to hug it tightly. It’s not an adequate replacement but it smells like Cas and that’s better than nothing.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Cas,” he mumbles. “I’m so sorry your Mom is such an asshole. And I wish I could have met your brother.”

“You’d have hated him,” Cas sobs. “He was vulgar and inappropriate and he groped everyone.” Cas chuckles through his tears. “God, I would have had to fight him off of you and Sam.”

Dean’s stomach plunges again. They’re not together.  _ Don’t make this about yourself. Don’t hope. _

“Even though,” Cas sniffles loudly. “Maybe not. Maybe Balthazar really was his One.”

“Balthazar?” Now that’s a name Dean has definitely not heard before. 

“Gabe’s boyfriend. At the time when he… Back then I couldn’t… But now I think they really loved each other.”

“That’s good. That’s good that he’d found that.” 

It stumps them both.  _ Love _ is not something they discuss. It’s not something they allow themselves to hope for. Doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t feel it. 

He clears his throat. “So there’s still a lot of stuff in the box. Anything in particular I should be looking at?”

“No, no not really. I just - I wanted you to know that he existed.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods because he can understand that. And also why it was easier for Cas to show Dean the newspaper clipping than to tell him. “You know what, how about I’ll look at the pictures and describe them to you and you tell me the stories behind them? How does that sound? That way, I would know a little more about him than just that he existed.” 

There’s a long moment of silence before Cas finally whispers, “Yeah, yeah I think I would like that.”


	7. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many memories.

Cas closes his eyes as Dean describes a picture. It’s an old one, Cas is a toddler on it and he doesn’t need to hear the rest of the description to know where it was taken. 

But God, Dean’s voice. Cas hadn’t known how much he’d missed Dean’s voice before he’d heard it again. 

He listens not so much to the words but to their tone. Tries to figure it out from the rise and fall of the syllables, what Dean is thinking about all of this. He thinks it’s not wishful thinking that he doesn’t hear any of the things he’d been afraid of. Disgust. Disappointment. Anger. Suspicion. He’d expected them all. 

But Dean’s voice sounds like - Dean. 

“Cas? You still with me?” 

Well, like worried Dean. Though not the kind of worried Dean was when Cas’ mood was brittle and Dean was aware that every wrong step could set him off. A deeper kind of worried. The kind of worried that Dean reserves for people other than himself. 

“It’s the living room of my grandparents’ house. My actual grandparents. We visited them for a few days around Christmas every year before they died.”

“You look happy.”

“They gave good presents. My mother did not get along with them, though.”

“So they were your father’s parents?”

“Yes,” Cas nods, “and they were - Democrats.”

Dean chuckles. “A mortal sin, obviously.”

Cas huffs out a breath. 

Dean’s tone has changed, has become more calculating when he asks. “Do you think that? That it is a mortal sin?” 

“Being a Democrat?” 

Cas knows he’s being obtuse on purpose but he’s still surprised when Dean calls him out on it. “Don’t do that, Cas. Not today. Please.”

It’s another thing that’s changed between them. Cas takes a long shuddering breath. “Thank you.”

Dean’s voice is quiet when he answers. “We didn’t work, Cas. If the time apart has proven anything, it’s that. We can’t go on like before.”

“I know,” Cas agrees because he does know. He only wishes he’d know what it means for them. 

“So you got an answer for me then?” Dean persists. 

“Dean, I -,” Cas stops. “I live an open and out life, don’t I?”

Dean doesn’t answer a long moment and when he answers it’s hesitant, worried in the way Dean gets when he thinks he’s pushing Cas. “There’s a difference between being out and being open.”

And yeah, okay, Cas deserves that one. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

The pause on the other end of the line is even longer than before. Then Dean says quietly. “It made you stop hurting. Just for a moment, maybe, but it made you stop hurting when you punished me. That’s why I…” He clears his throat and trails off. 

Something like despair washes over Cas. All he’s ever wanted was to be good to Dean and somehow all he’s managed to do was mess up. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” Dean says quickly. “You don’t have to keep saying it. All I want - I want you to be okay, man. And I want you to know - I don’t. I don’t see it as a sin. I don’t think it’s something that needs conversion.”

Cas smiles then, though it is pained. It is the dichotomy of Dean Winchester that it took him a decade to come out to even his closest friends, but he would still protect everyone’s else’s right to be who they are. 

“If,” Cas swallows, “if all of it is true, the things they taught me as a child, then - then Gabriel is in Hell. He took his own life. The only sin that is final. That you can’t confess and can’t atone for.” 

He’s not sure how many nights it’s kept him up, this thought. How often he’d imagined Gabriel’s soul subjected to unspeakable torture. He knows that he fears it more than anything. More than what he fears will happen to his own soul upon his passing. 

“I’m not sure how much my opinion counts, seeing how I’m a Heathen and all,” Dean answers. “But, you know, that would be a pretty shitty God, who’d let a boy be tortured on Earth and condemn him to more torture when he couldn’t take it.”

“In my experience, pretty much everyone is pretty shitty,” Cas says humorlessly. 

“I’d fight you on that if I didn’t know that you knew already that that’s bullshit,” Dean says evenly. “You got people on your side, Cas. You just gotta allow yourself to see it.”

If it was a Western movie, it would be a stand-off. As it is, they are both glaring into empty space until Dean finally breaks the silence. 

“I got a picture here of a dance? Looks formal. Kinda like Winter Formal at school, only everyone looks crisp like a Mormon. You’re dancing with a chick.”

“Hannah,” Cas says. “A friend.”

“Uhhuh. She doesn’t look at you like she wants to be your friend, buddy.”

“But she still is a friend,” Cas insists. “One of the very few who stood by me after I came back from Missouri’s and went back to my old school.”

“Because she thought she could cure you?”

“Because she genuinely  _ liked _ me,” Cas replies a little irritated.

“Ah,” Dean says. “More people who aren’t completely shitty. Who would have thought.”

His first impulse is to answer something snide, but Cas reins it in. Dean’s making a point and Cas fell for his tactic of proving it. It’s nothing to get angry about. He takes a few deep breaths.

“Are you still in contact with her?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “We lost contact when things got busy in college. Huh. I guess I could look her up since I’m already here.”

“Well, it does look like it’s your summer trip back into the past.”

Suddenly, all thoughts of anger are disappearing. “It’s because I  _ want _ a future. You know that, Dean, right?” he asks urgently. 

Dean thinks about it for a moment before he answers. “So all this time before, the whole time we’ve been together - you didn’t want one?”

That punches the air out of Cas but even after it returns he still doesn’t know how to answer. 

“I see,” Dean says and the hurt is audible. 

“Dean, I - I haven't ever seen a future for myself. Not as long as I can remember. It's only because of you that I'm thinking about it now!” It’s as close to the truth of his feelings and also as close to pathetic as he's ever gotten. 

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?” Dean asks and his voice sounds small. “Because you didn’t see a future with me?”

Cas wants to cry and to laugh at the same time. “Dean, haven’t you heard anything I’ve just said.”

“Oh, I heard it,” Dean answers. “But I don’t see how it makes a difference. You were together with me yet you didn’t see a future with me.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re one to talk! You’d run for the hills if I’d talked commitment just as much as I’d have!”

There’s only harsh breathing on the other end of the line for a long moment. Dean only answers after the breathing has turned back to almost normal. “That’s not true. And it makes me angry that you talk about it like you do. But Charlie said that we need to learn to use our words to communicate. So here, this is me communicating: That fucking hurts, Cas. You know damn well that I was completely committed to you. And the fact that you didn’t open up with me doesn’t change that. And you know what, maybe that was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have just accepted that that’s the way you are. Maybe I should have pushed back when you pushed me. But none of that changes that it was my choice to be committed to you. So you don’t get to say that I wasn’t.”

By the end of the sentence, it sounds like Dean is talking through gritted teeth to avoid shouting. 

Cas is taken aback. This is a side of Dean that he doesn’t know. Because, yeah, usually Dean doesn’t push back when Cas pushes. 

“I apologize,” he mumbles.

Dean sighs. “Look, Cas, I - I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I understand that sharing any of this with me is a big deal for you. Like, I don’t necessarily understand why you kept it secret but -,” he breaks off, searches for words and starts again, softer. “I always knew it, Cas. That I felt more for you than you did for me. I’ve made my peace with it. But you can’t judge me by your own standard.”

“You’re dead wrong.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Dean. You’re dead wrong,” Cas repeats with more emphasis. “And I’m kind of upset here, too, because I might be awful at showing my feelings, but I thought you knew me well enough to understand that that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“Cas,” Dean sounds hesitant. “What does that - what are you saying?”

“I am saying that I loved you just as much as you loved me. And I was as committed to us as you were.”

He feels better and worse having said it, especially since there is no answer from Dean. 

“Cas, can we - can I think about this for a bit? Can we go on with the photos for now?”

“Yes,” Cas deflates. “Yes of course, Dean.” 

He doesn’t say out loud that he’s disappointed. That he’d hoped - but he doesn’t have a right to hope. Dean is still here and talking to him and that’s already more than he thought was possible when his mind led him through every worst case scenario imaginable. So there, Cas will hold to that. 

“Hmm, not sure you’ll remember this one. There’s no one on it, it’s just a flower field. There are a few trees in the background, but that’s pretty much it.”

“They’re dandelions, aren’t they?” Despite himself Cas smiles. “A whole field full of dandelions.”

“Could be,” Dean says. “I’m not a botanist.”

Cas chuckles. “No they are. And the horizon in the photo is all askew because I was what - six, seven maybe, when I took that photo.”

Cas loves the memory. He can see Gabriel jumping up and down like an excited puppy as he runs towards the field full of dandelions, can feel the warm sun on his face, can almost taste the smell of summer. 

_ “Come on Cassie! You gotta be faster!“ Gabe shouted, already standing in the middle of the field while Cas hurried to catch up. He kept a worried eye backwards, wondering how long it would take until their mother noted their absence.  _

_ Still he found his way to his big brother, marvelling in the flower field and the way it seemed alive, bees swirling around, bugs climbing on the grass. He stopped to snap a picture with his new camera.  _

_ “Oh Cassie, that is a totally boring shot.” _

_ “It is not,” Cas replied with all the dignity of a second grader.  _

_ Gabriel laughed but his eyes had also softened. “Hey, Cassie, did you know that you are supposed to make a wish and then blow these things away?“ he said, picking up a dandelion and giving it to Cas.  _

_ “Come on, make a wish!“ Gabe encouraged him.  _

_ Cas smiled, not sure whether his brother was mocking him. “Life doesn’t work that way,” he said decidedly.  _

_ Gabe snorted a laugh. “Aren’t you the wise one, little brother. Have you ever even tried it? It’s called the scientific method. You gotta try everything at least once.” _

_ Cas was pretty sure that something about that was wrong but he couldn’t figure out what, so he shrugged and took the dandelions. “I wish that there won’t be any beans for dinner tonight.” _

_ “Honestly? That’s what you’re wasting your wish on? Methinks you’re not taking this seriously.”  _

_ “But you are?” Cas challenged.  _

_ “Yes, brother, I am,” Gabe confirmed and plucked a dandelion for himself. He looked at it for a heartbeat, said “I wish for freedom” and blew on it so hard that the seeds got caught by the wind and carried away. “There, that’s how you make a wish,” Gabe said satisfied.  _

“Cas? Cas, come on, answer.” Dean’s voice breaks into the memory. “You’re crying again, man.”

Cas puts a hand to his face and it comes away wet. “It’s just, he blew on a dandelion when he was eight and he wished for freedom and he knew already when he was eight and the wish never came true.” He desperately tries to keep in the sobs that want to wrack his body.

“You don’t know that,” Dean replies quietly. “You said he had a boyfriend. So he got to do some of the stuff he wanted.”

“But he wanted to be free, Dean. And he never was. He always carried all the shitty memories with him.”

There is a long hesitation from Dean before he says, “You know, maybe he’s free now. Maybe he found a way not to carry all the shit anymore.”

“And what, be an angel and flit around the Heavens?” Cas asks sarcastically. 

“Heathen here,” Dean reminds him, “so I don’t know about that. But, you know, maybe there’s something. The proverbial better place. It’s possible, after all.”

“But if he’s in a better place, then why doesn’t my soul recognize it? Why do I miss him so terribly?” It comes out as a cry and Cas is sobbing again. 

“Cause you’re still here,” Dean says. “Cause  _ you’re  _ still carrying all of that shit with you.” There is another pause and then Dean adds tentatively, “We can help you carry it, you know? Me and Sammy and our friends. If you let us, we’ll take part of the load.”

Cas doesn’t seem to be able to stop crying, Dean’s words making him hiccup with tears. “I wanted to tell you, Dean,” he sobs because it may be too late, but it’s nothing but the fucking truth, “I wanted to give you more than just the present. I wanted there to be a past and a future. But every time I see him, I don’t see that meadow, I see him when he’s…. I see him after... I see...” He can’t finish the sentence.

“You found him?” The shock is evident in Dean’s voice.   


“Yeah,” Cas chokes out. “It was horrible, Dean. It was so horrible.”

He sees his brother’s lifeless face, pale but too close to life still to be any unnatural color, and if his eyes were closed Cas might be able to convince himself that he’s sleeping, but as it is… The memory wrecks the last of his defenses and he crumbles on the ground while he breaks down into incoherent sobs. 


	8. Supported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath, Dean's side.

Frankly, Dean is at a loss. 

Cas doesn’t cry. Not like this anyway. He gets upset, yes, and every so often there is a tear or two. Which he’ll wipe away angrily. 

When that happens, Dean tends to do two things. He tends to make himself soft and malleable. Tends not to object and instead submit without question. And he tends to stay close enough to make himself a target. To give Cas something to focus on that will distract him from himself and make him feel better. 

 Dean’s got a feeling that neither of these approaches is going to do anything today. Actually, in hindsight, he’s not so sure that they were doing anything in the first place, other than providing a bandaid for what turned out to be a festering wound. 

 He listens helplessly to Cas’ sobs. They’re slightly distorted, the phone somewhere on the floor, Dean guesses. 

 "Cas, baby, come on, pick up the phone again,” he begs, because he doesn’t want Cas to be alone right now. “Come on, Cas, let me help.”

There isn’t even anyone he can call on Cas because he doesn’t know anyone in that damn city. If Cas hangs up on him, he’s only got the options of pestering him on his cell, or calling the police. 

The thought scares him. Because he can’t quite rule out the possibility that this is Cas’ version of goodbye.  _ Closure. _ That’s what Cas had written. Goddammit, that’s not what Dean wants. 

“Cas!” Dean yells into the receiver. “Pick up your damn phone. Right now. Put it on speaker if you have to. But pick it the fuck up.”

That seems to do something because there’s rustling and then the sobbing gets exponentially louder. Dean breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Cas,” Dean tries to make his voice stern, though it wavers with fear. “I want you to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water.”

There’s a hitch in Cas’ breathing and more sobbing. 

“You take care of me, right? When I cry during or after a scene, you take care of me. This is not a scene but you are crying and I’m going to take care of you. Best as I can from here, anyway. Like I let you take care of me, you’re going to do the same for me now. And I want you to get up and get a glass of water.”

It takes another moment, but then there’s rustling and noise that sounds like Cas has trouble getting his feet under him, but finally Dean hears water and then swallowing.

“That’s good, Cas, that’s very good,” Dean praises him. “Drink slowly, try not to choke.”

Cas makes an indignant sounds, though it’s still accompanied by teary hiccups. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says with a small smile. “You’re always very dignified and never clutzy at all. Refill the water glass, take it to the couch. Find yourself a blanket and wrap yourself up in it.”

“Dean…” 

That’s good. Protest is good. “I can’t coddle you in person, but I’m damn well going to make sure you’re alright anyway. Get on the damn couch.”

That’s enough expletives apparently to make Cas move. Dean listens to the clink of the glass on a table, and to more rustling when Cas unfolds a blanket.

“Lay down, lov - Cas,” Dean says. “Wrap yourself up nice and warm. Is that good?”

“Uh-uh,” Cas whines.

“No? Okay. What else do you need?”

“You.” It’s whispered so low that Dean can’t be sure he’s actually heard it. 

He still answers it, though. “I’m here, Cas. I’m still here. You gotta calm down a little, okay? So what do you say, we breathe together for a while, slow and steady?” 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean confirms. 

He shifts on the bed until he can lean against the headrest and breathes in and out slowly. He tries to breathe as loudly as possible to give Cas a rhythm to adhere to. And after a while, Cas sobs calms down and his breathing turns less rapid. Finally, it gets slower than Dean’s and he isn’t even sure anymore that Cas is awake. 

Dean closes his eyes, too, leans his head against the wall and listens to Cas’ breathing.

“Dean?” 

“Hmm?” Dean had been half asleep and judging by the way Cas slurs the word, he’s not doing any better. Emotions of the past few hours taking their toll, Dean guesses.

“Do you hate me?” It sounds very vulnerable. A tone Dean doesn’t know, and that he doesn’t think Cas would use if he were less close to sleep. 

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Cas. Not saying I always get you, but no, I most definitely don’t hate you.”

“Can’t protect you,” Cas slurs. “Can’t give you what you need.”

Dean hums something noncommittal to the second part and decides only to answer the first. “Don’t need you to protect me, Cas. I can protect myself.”

This time it’s Cas, who hums a protest, though it’s not malevolent. “Want to protect you, though. Want you to be mine.”

“You’re exhausted and half asleep, Cas. We can talk about this some other time.”  _ Don’t hope. Don’t hope. Don’t hope. _

“Mmmmh.”

It’s the final thing Cas says before there’s only breathing and then finally a beep when Cas must have pushed  _ end call _ in his sleep.

Dean sighs deeply and throws the phone next to him on the bed. He’ll check in on Cas in a few hours. For now, he’s going to let him sleep. 

Dean looks at Cas’ alarm on his nightstand. It’s long past noon. They’ve been on the phone for hours. 

“Shit,” Dean mumbles but instead of getting up, he lets himself sink deeper into the pillows on Cas’ bed. He reaches blindly for the photos and looks through the ones that Cas has explained to him. 

He’s got trouble reconciling it, the unhappy mormon-looking teen with the brother who killed himself, and the strong and confident Cas that he knows. For that matter, he’s got trouble reconciling the Cas who cries himself to sleep with the one he knows.

“Shit,” Dean repeats because it seems to be the appropriate reaction.

Suddenly, the urge to hear his brother’s voice fills him with a rush of adrenaline and dread. He has to know that Sam is still alive and okay. Has to. Right now. Before it can turn into an anxious fit, Dean snatches up his phone from the comforter and dials Sam’s number. 

“Hey, Dean!“, Sam picks up after the second ring and sounds casual as can be, the shuffling of paper in the background telling Dean that he’s most likely disturbed him while brooding over some law issue or other.

Dean lets out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “It’s good to hear your voice.“

Immediately, the shuffling ceases. “Did something happen? Are you alright?“ Sam asks, clearly alarmed. 

And okay, maybe Dean has also cried a little bit when Cas was breaking down and his voice is somewhat rougher than normal. He huffs. “Yes. No. Ah fuck, I don't know, man, I don't know.“

“What’s up? Has Dad called you again? Do I need to come over?“ 

“Gee, Sam, not everything is about Dad. And coming over wouldn’t solve a thing.“

“Come on, Dean, don't do that. You already called me, so you might as well talk to me,” Sam whines.   


“I  _ am  _ talking to you,” Dean insists. “But coming over wouldn’t change a thing because I’m not even home. I’m at Cas’.”

There a long uncomfortable moment of silence before Sam cautiously says. “I thought Cas was still in Washington.”

“He is,” Dean confirms. 

“Umm.” That leaves Sam floundering for a moment before his voice gets harder and more suspicious. “Don’t tell me he’s making you run errands for him while he isn’t here.”

“Dude!”

“No, Dean,” Sam interrupts him angrily. “No, that’s not okay. It’s not okay to break up with you and then make you - water his plants. Dean, don’t you see that he -”

“He had a brother who committed suicide when they were kids. Because Cas’ religious ass family couldn’t deal with their kids being queer and he couldn’t deal with the conversion attempts, far as I could figure out.”

That shuts Sam up. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “So no, Sam, he’s not making me water the plants. I’m here cause he couldn’t figure out a way to tell me without showing me the pictures. And now I’m goddamn fucking scared because…” Dean groans and runs a hand over his face, not even wanting to say that part aloud. “He’s not doing well, Sammy. He’s falling apart. And up there, he’s got no one to help catching the pieces.”

“Dean…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Dean sighs. Because he knows everything Sam is about to say. “It’s not my responsibility anymore. Cas treated me badly. You were glad when he went to Washington, so that we could all get our heads screwed on straight again blabla. I know.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re still going to ask for spontaneous leave on Monday?”

“Family emergencies do happen, Sam,” Dean replies. 

Unsurprisingly, Sam doesn’t sound happy about this answer. “Dean, are you sure this is a good idea? You were doing so well.”

Dean groans some more and buries his head in the pillows. “You’re all getting it wrong,” he mutters into the fabric. 

“Dean? I don’t understand a single word,” Sam grumbles. 

“You got it wrong,” Dean half-shouts in the receiver. He rolls on his back before he says. “Sorry. It’s just that Charlie said almost the same thing to me and you both have it wrong. I’m not doing good  _ because  _ Cas is gone. I’m doing good  _ despite  _ Cas being gone.”

“Dean, I…” Sam clears his throat and Dean would bet he’s combining bitchface number five with puppy dog eyes as he’s trying to figure out how to tell Dean gently that he thinks he’s an idiot. 

“I know what it looks like,” Dean spares Sam the necessity to come up with the words. “And I’m telling you it’s not true.”

“Sometimes it looked halfway like abuse, Dean.”

“Did it look to you like abuse while we were together?” Dean challenges. 

“Umm.”

“Did it look like he was trying to isolate me, keep me from meeting you or the others? Did it look like he was cowing me into submission? Like he was beating me up? Like he disregarded my opinion? You know how abuse looks like, Sam. You’ve lived with our Dad. Did it look anything like that?” 

“Uhh, no,” Sam admits. “Y’all looked happy. Happier than you’d been on your own. But after… You gotta admit that he was pretty mean.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Yeah, neither of us handled the break-up very well. But, Sam, look, he and I, we’ve got this thing going between us….” He breaks off with a grimace. Among the things he’d never ever wanted to explain to his little brother was what happened when power dynamics that you’d chosen for yourself got a little out of whack. “Imagine it like wrestling instead of boxing,” is the best he’s finally got to offer. “There’s a lot of noise and the moves aren’t exactly painless, but it’s all staged, not a real fight. Cas wasn’t gonna hurt me and we both knew it. That’s why I reacted the way I did.”

And because of that tiny ridiculous bit of hope that hadn’t let itself be shut up. It had made him more stubborn than usual even by Winchester standards. 

“And right now, it’s not about whether he wants me back. He’s hurting and I’m worried and I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be alone.”

“He  _ wanted  _ to be alone, Dean. That’s why he went to Washington,” Sam tries at a last ditch argument.

“Yeah, and I’m not going to show up on his doorstep without his permission. But I’m not going to risk him doing something stupid, either.”

“You think - you really think it’s that bad?” Sam asks quietly, the anger from before replaced with concern. 

“I don’t know,” Dean confesses. “I wish I did.”

“Want me to come with you? I think I can take a few days off.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I mean, thanks for the offer, it’s good to know that you care. But no.”

“Of course I care,” Sam growls half-heartedly. “I might not be all that thrilled about what happened between the two of you, but Cas is still my friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “I know. And any other time I’d say, sure, let’s go together, but not this time. He trusted me with this, Sammy. And I don’t think he trusts  _ anyone  _ with it. I gotta see this through.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, already resigned to the fact that he won’t be able to change Dean’s mind. “Was he older or younger? Cas’ brother.”

“Older,” Dean says. “Though I guess they were a little closer in age than you and me.”

Sam audibly shudders. “That’s - Did you ever…? I mean, it got pretty bad at home at times.”

Okay, that’s not the lawyer-style interrogation Dean was expecting. “Nah,” Dean fends the idea off fast. “I mean, fleeting moments. I guess everyone has those. But I wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

“Cause you were taking care of me,” Sam says thoughtfully. “So, do you think Cas took care of his older brother more than the other way around?” 

And there he is, the lawyer who snoops around out of habit. “I honestly got no idea, Sammy. But I’m damn well hoping that there’s more than a sense of responsibility keeping Cas alive.”

He frowns at the thought because that would indeed be shitty. Double-shitty for their relationship, if a sense of duty to protect Dean was all that Cas was feeling. Because Dean is all in favor of keeping Cas alive, but he kind of wants him to want to be alive and be happy, and preferably he wants him to have been happy with Dean as well. 

“Dean? You know that I love you, right? And that you can always come and tell me when life gets bad?” 

“Dude, didn’t we just get through me telling you that I wasn’t suicidal?” Dean chastises. But he also adds, “Also, same. I’m here when you need me. Always.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come to Washington?” Sam asks.

“I’m sure, Sammy. You go do your lawyer-shit, I go save my ex.”


	9. Contemplative

Of course it’s not saving per se.

And of course Dean doesn’t even know yet whether Cas wants him there. He contemplates snooping around Cas’ apartment to see whether he finds any address for a Missouri or a Balthazar. In the end, he decides against it, though. Trust. He’s not going to do anything without at least telling Cas about it.

_Dean @Cas: I’m keeping your keys._

_Dean @Cas: And I’m giving you until 8pm to write me a message. After that I’m going to bug you until you answer._

_Dean @Cas: Yes, I’m making sure you’re not doing anything stupid. Deal with it._

He carefully puts the pictures back in their box but keeps the box out on the bed. He locks the apartment behind himself and makes his way back to his own place.

At home, he first calls Bobby. He gets only his voicemail, which probably means the old man is at the garage finishing off any extra work. It makes guilt stir in Dean for abandoning him for a week but his worry about Cas outweighs it. So he leaves a message that he’s got a family emergency and needs to take a few days off. “A week maximum, I swear, Bobby. And I’ll work weekends to make up for it. But it’s important.”

Now Bobby knows Dean well enough to know that he usually doesn’t even take all of his vacation days, so hopefully he’ll understand that Dean is not just skipping out on all of his duties.

_Dean @Cas: Get an aspirin and some more water when you wake up. OJ if you have it. Crying can give you a serious hangover._

Which Cas knows in theory. But feeding someone else aspirin is different than waking up with a head stuffed full of wool and a mouth that feels dry like the desert.

 

_“Shh, it’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. You’re safe.”_

_He blinks. He’s lying in Cas’ arms but it’s completely hazy how he ended up there._

_“Come on, you gotta drink this.”_

_Cas holds a glass to his lips and because it’s easiest Dean opens his mouth and swallows the liquid. It’s way too sweet._

_“Don’t like it,” Dean mumbles._

_Cas chuckles a little and presses a kiss to his temple before putting the glass right back to his lips. “It has electrolytes, though. It’ll keep you from getting a headache.”_

_Dean grumbles, but he obediently gulps down the rest of it. Fortunately, Cas puts the glass away then and lies back, drawing Dean with him until he’s cushioned against Cas’ chest._

_“Did I safeword?” Dean asks because really he has only the fuzziest memories of what has happened. “Sorry.”_

_“Dean,” Cas frowns. “Don’t ever apologize for safewording. Anyone ever makes you do that, you get the hell out of dodge.”_

_Dean mumbles something that sounds like assent but burrows deeper into Cas’ shoulder. He’s not far enough back to the surface to analyse the words but he knows that the mention that there might be other play partners in his future leaves him freezing._

_“Also, you didn’t safeword.”_

_“Huh? What happened then?”_

_Cas strokes a hand through Dean’s hair, softly parting the sweaty strands. “Don’t you remember?”_

_“Uhh, not really.” He tries to clear the fuzziness from his mind. “But something went bad.”_

_“Yeah,” Cas lets out a shaky breath and it’s the first time that Dean notices that Cas is not calm. In fact, the hand that strokes Dean’s hair is shaking. “You could say that.”_

_Dean pushes himself up a little after all to be able to look at Cas. He’s worriedly biting his lower lip but he holds Dean’s gaze when he asks, “Did I hurt you, Dean?”_

_“I-,” Dean racks his brain. “I don’t know.” In lieu of conscious awareness, he puts a hand on Cas’ chest and searches his feelings. There’s nothing there but warmth and wanting to be close. “I don’t think you did,” Dean says satisfied and allows himself to rest his head on Cas’ chest again, listening to his heartbeat. “Did I freak out?”_

_“You started crying. And it was - it felt like a switch, one moment things were okay, then you went to a bad place. So I stopped, but you were so far gone, it took me a while to get you back.” Cas wraps his arms tighter around Dean, like he wants to make sure he doesn’t get lost again._

_“‘M here now, Cas,” Dean reminds him. “Sorry for freaking.”_

_“Stop it,” Cas pokes him in the ribs. “You really don’t remember?”_

_“No,” Dean shakes his head._

 

Cas had been freaky good at that. Knowing when Dean was too far inside his own head to make the right calls.

It’s part of the reason why Dean always wanted to make Cas feel better any way he could, even if it meant keeping his mouth shut when the punishment didn’t fit the crime. Those were never moments where he was too far gone to make an informed decision. He could have backed out and he would have if he felt that he needed to.

He knows Charlie isn’t all convinced about that, and Dean isn’t actually sure Cas knows, either, but that doesn’t make it less true.

Dean drops down on his couch. “Ah fuck.”

He brings up the photo he took of the picture of Cas and Gabriel, looks at it again, this time trying to figure out whether there’s anything similar between Gabriel’s expression and the way Dean looks when he has a bad day.

Cause in the end, that’s what happened, isn’t it? Something about Dean that night when he was drunk and saying awful shit about himself had triggered Cas. And had him spiralling down into an abyss of self-hate and guilt that he hadn’t found a way out of. Not until he left town to deal with his past, anyway.

_Dean @Cas: Just to be clear. I know that you took out part of your issues on me. It was a conscious choice to let you._

_Dean @Cas: Not saying it was a good choice. So yeah, let’s not do that again. Let’s hold each other accountable in the future._

For a moment, Dean is unsure whether to send it. It sounds like he assumes that they have a future together. Then he sends it anyway, because whether they have a future as a couple is up in the air, but he sure hopes that they both have a future and that it’ll be one where they don’t lose contact completely.

After the message, he purposefully puts his cell phone aside. He starts cleaning the apartment because that way he can get rid of some of his nervous energy. Plus, the apartment needs it. When doesn’t it? He chuckles a little, but his thoughts keep drifting back to Cas and he can’t seem to shake the worry that clutches his heart.

 

_“Throwing away a thorny blanket is scary,” Charlie shrugs. “You don’t know whether you’ll find something better to keep you warm. But it also means the thorns won’t pierce your skin anymore.”_

_“Dude, did you just compare Cas to a blanket?”_

_“Not Cas. Your relationship with him. Actually, his relationship with you as well. Thorny blankets suck, Dean,” she says and proceeds to kick his ass at Halo._

 

So now they’ve thrown out the thorny blanket. Dean, when he decided to tell Cas that their old relationship dynamics didn’t work for him anymore. And Cas, when he told Dean about his past and the way he is broken.

Dean throws the rag he was wiping the kitchen counters with in the sink.

Now comes the part where they figure out whether it leaves them freezing.

He checks his phone but there’s still no new message. Not that he’s expected one yet. He has a feeling Cas didn’t sleep much in the past few nights. So he’s going to be out for a while.

Has Cas told anyone else? If he doesn’t want to talk to Dean right now, is there anyone else he could call? Most of their friends are _their_ friends, and seeing how Cas left town they’ve kind of been siding with Dean. Not that Dean thought that sides needed to be taken.  

_Dean @Cas: Our friends are still your friends, too, you know that, right? If you need to talk to someone who is not me, any of them would listen._

_Dean @Cas: Sam included._

_Dean @Cas: He’s less scary to talk to than Charlie._

_Dean @Cas: Apart from with the kink stuff. Maybe let’s not discuss the kink stuff with my little brother._

He adds a nervously sweating emoji to that last one.

_Dean @Cas: But even if you decide to talk to someone else, please let me know you’re okay._

And Dean should probably stop sending Cas’ text messages or he’ll have a billion messages to read and Dean’s got no idea whether that’s going to come over as helpful and protective or as needy and pathetic. 

He sighs. Well, if nothing else it’ll come over as honest. Because the messages are a clear mirror of his internal dialogue.

Just then, the doorbell rings.

“Huh?” He’s not expecting anyone. “Sam, you’re supposed to be studying and not worrying about me, so if that’s you, I swear…”

“Nope, not Sam,” the redhead in the doorway says and promptly pushes Dean out of the way to enter his apartment.

“Uh, Charlie…” Dean says intelligently.

She sniffs the air. “It smells like Mr. Clean. Were you cleaning?”

“Charlie!” Dean growls, wanting an explanation.

“Alright, alright, Sam texted me. Happy now?”

“Sam - what?”

“Texted me. Told me you were about to do something stupid. Don’t think he meant cleaning your apartment, though,” she frowns. “So what did he mean?”

“I -”

“Oh, he says Hi by the way and sorry and he would have come himself but he had no time. Which I believe has to do with the cute girl that works at the store downstairs. Long brown hair, always smiles at him?”

“Eileen,” Dean says because even he has noticed this one.

“Eileen,” Charlie nods. “That was the name. I think they were meeting up tonight.”

“Sam asked her out on a date?” Dean asks, slightly surprised.

“No, man,” Charlie chuckles. “I didn’t get the full story out of him but he was too sketchy about this one to imply anything but her asking him. But stop distracting me. You wanted to tell me about the stupid thing you’re going to do.”

Dean splutters somewhat indignantly which, he is very well aware, is not helping his case at all. “Traitor,” he mumbles towards the sky in the general direction of where his brother’s apartment is.

“So, I’m guessing it’s got something to do with Cas?” Charlie plonks herself down on the couch.

“He didn’t tell?”

“Nope,” Charlie shakes her head. “Said it’s your story. But really, Dean, you tend to be a pretty sensible guy _unless_ a certain someone is around. So the deduction really isn’t that hard.“

Dean grumbles some more but he’d just been thinking about how he hopes Cas has someone to talk to, so really Dean should take his own advice and not lock his best friend out.

“Yeah, it’s about him. He texted a few days ago and we talked today.”

“You talked?” Charlie perks up. “Good talk, bad talk, relationship talk?”

“Bit of everything,” Dean admits. “But now I’m worried.”

“About?”

“About Cas.”

“Huh,” Charlie says and then a second later. “Oh. Ooooohhhh.”

“What ohhhh?”

“Ohhhh, Cas is in Washington. You’re here. And you’re worried. You want to be closer.”

And yeah, somehow Dean is reasonably sure he’s not going to get out of this one. “Yes,” he confirms what she already knows.

“Oh Dean…” Her gaze is bordering on pity again before she suddenly chuckles. “I’d say you’re whipped but… you know… he’d have to be physically here for that...”

Dean feels the flush creep up his neck even while he rolls his eyes. “Oldest joke in the book, Charlie. Find some new material.”

She laughs. “Still seems to work, though.” She nudges him in the shoulder. “So, are you going to run after him?”

He doesn’t answer but he can feel how his face heats some more and that’s definitely a confession of guilt.

“Oh Dean.”

And that seems to be everyone’s favorite sentence these days.

“It’s not like that.” Dean rubs a hand over his face but he sits down as well. He’s not going to get rid of Charlie anytime soon.

“How’s it like then?” Charlie asks and at least she sounds open-minded.

“He’s in a bad place, emotionally. Like _bad_ . Like, you haven’t seen him like this _bad_. Because I haven’t seen him like this, either.”

“Hmm,” Charlie thinks about it for a moment. “Why is it your job to clean that up?”

“Because he chose to tell me. He chose to be vulnerable and he hates that more than anything. Whatever else is going on between us, I need to honor that.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares challengingly at Charlie.

“Dude, the fact that you’re getting defensive says more about you than it say about me, you know that, right?”

Dean deflates. He lets himself fall back into the couch cushions. “Yeah, whatever.”

He doesn’t even have to look to know that she’s raising one eyebrow at him. When he does look, that’s exactly what she’s doing.

He goes back to staring at the ceiling, because if he’s going to try to make sense of this, then it’s easier when he’s not looking at her.

“I think I was wrong about him, Charles,” is what he finally says. “I always assumed - don’t get me wrong, I always knew he liked me. And that he cared about me. But I always kind of thought - like, when I saw him the first time, he was just so fucking hot, it felt like it short-circuited my brain. And he kept smiling at me like he knew all of my secrets anyway and I think he got all of them out of me before we ever ended up in bed together. And you know, by the time we got there I was so hopelessly in love with him already, but…”

“But love and happiness were never the plan?” Charlie says with a crooked smile.

Dean nods. “That was always clear, like always from the time I can remember all the way to now. _Sam’s gonna add up to something. Sam’s gonna have a beautiful family. Sam’s gonna be great. Dean, make sure you help your brother become a great man._ ” Dean grimaced. “And it’s not even just Dad, it’s…” He shrugs because he’s run out of words.

“Did you ever think about it that there might be a correlation with how you see yourself?” Charlie asks quietly. “Cause you know, I know that I don’t see you like that. But I also know that it’s hard to tell you that, because you’re a stubborn mule about the fact that Sam’s supposed to be the great one. Which, by the way, unfair to him, too. Like, So. Much. Pressure.”

Dean sighs tiredly. “I don’t know, Charles. Honestly, I don’t even know.”

“So what about Cas?” Charlie asks. “How does he see you?”

“Never asked,” Dean says. “Too scared, I guess. I mean I was pretty sure I knew the answer. That he liked me and liked what I could do for him and that he was biding his time until the One came along. And it’s not like - I had made my peace with that. Just thought I’d try to keep him for as long as I could. That’s why I didn’t give up after we broke up. Wasn’t exactly like I had anything to lose. And you know…”

“You didn’t want to lose him. Because you love him.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Only then he left, and that was a weird conversation in itself, and then you came along and insisted on talking about shit, and…”

“And?” Charlie encourages.

“And shit changed, somehow. Like, not that I love him, that hasn’t changed. But like, I see him differently now. And the stuff he told me today…” Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t think he wants to get into any of this with Charlie. “But you know, I think I can help. Like, actually help. Not just -”

“Be a punching bag for him to work out his frustrations?”

Dean groans. “I’m telling you, that’s never how it was. Ever. Though it wasn’t the most balanced thing, either,” he admits grudgingly. “So yeah, this feels - different. Like something new.” He looks at Charlie after all, “He said he loved me, Charles. That he was as committed to me as I was to him. And I mean, I have no idea whether that means anything, or whether we’ve already fucked this up beyond repair, but…”

“But you have hope.”

Dean nods, though he does it quickly and embarrassedly because Charlie’s spent a month trying to talk him out of this.

Ridiculous. Ridiculous to have hope. But his heart beats faster just thinking about it.

So of course that’s the moment, when his phone beeps.


	10. Reset

The world is slow to blink into focus.

For a moment, Cas expects to be at home. To find familiar blue sheets out of high thread-count cotton. Instead, he’s got the old quilt that he found in the closet after he rented this place slung tightly around himself. He sniffs at it. It smells like his washing powder. Because yes, he washed the thing. 

He tries to disentangle himself from the blanket but “owww”. His head hurts and his throat is parched. He tries to work some spit into his mouth. Water. Water would be good now. 

He doesn’t need to search long, there is a glass of water waiting for him on the living room table. 

That he’d put there because Dean told him to. 

In one rush, the events of the morning come back to him, and with them comes such a rush of nerves and adrenaline that it propels him up, heart beating fast. 

His phone clatters to the ground in the process. 

Cas eyes it warily. The last thing he remembers is Dean breathing with him. No, wait, he had asked Dean something. 

Cas feels the blood leaving his face. He’d asked him whether he hated him. And he’d told him that he couldn’t be what he needed. 

With dread, he picks the phone up from the floor, not sure whether he wants it to be a dead brick or whether he wants it to - it blinks. He has new messages. 

He takes a deep stabilizing breath, gulps some of the water, immediately coughs it up again because he’s nauseous and all of this was a goddamn stupid idea. 

He pokes the phone so that it comes to life without actually giving it his passcode yet. 

9 new messages. 

Can a heart actually beat out of a chest? He’d have said No before today. Now he isn’t so sure. 

He tries to shake his head to clear the dizziness, but his brain wobbles inside his skull and he groans.

“Why the fuck would anyone ever want to do that,” he grumbles because he is very sure that no alcohol was involved in leaving him in this state. Instead, he’d cried. “Again,” he mutters. “And does it make me feel any better, huh?” he accuses the empty air, which promptly answers him by giving him the image of a smiling Missouri in his mind.

“Great,” he growls. 

But Missouri’s smile only deepens, and yeah, yeah, maybe Cas’ head hurts but his heart feels a little lighter. A little.

Whether that stays this way, though, well, Cas guesses that depends on the 9 new messages on his phone. 

He swallows hard. 

Avoids the inevitable for another few moments by drinking a little more of the water. It works better this time. 

But the dread in his stomach doesn’t abate. It might take weight off of one’s burden to share a horrible secret but that also means that you’re sharing your horrible secret. 

Dean knows now. 

He knows how truly inadequate Cas is, who couldn’t even protect his own brother. Who is not fit to protect anyone, really. Who has trouble keeping himself together more days than not. 

And yet… It’s been years since Cas shared this many memories of his brother with anyone. It’s been years since Cas managed to conjure up this many memories without the image of Gabe’s dead body filling his mind and soul and leaving him off kilter for days. 

But today, he’s been seeing the pictures through Dean’s eyes, described in his words. They look different somehow, from that perspective. Less dangerous. They’re still his life but he also gets to tell them like a story. Like snapshots from a movie, in slightly washed out colors because the analog age is slowly fading into yellows.

The thought conjures a small smile and the small smile is enough encouragement to enter his passcode and look at the messages. 

Cas reads them, one by one, and slowly the dread gives way to astonishment. Because with every new message it becomes clearer that Dean still cares. That after Cas shut him out for months, then disappeared to a different state, then kept his silence for another month - somehow Dean still cares. Both in the practical - Cas gets up and gets an aspirin and gulps it down with some more water - as well as in the - does he dare think of it as the romantic?

_ In the future.  _

He stumbles over those words, reads and rereads them and wishes he knew how Dean meant them. 

Worry permeates every single one of the messages, even though Dean tried to make them sound as light-hearted as possible under the circumstances. Trying not to freak him out, probably, especially with the whole mention of  _ doing something stupid _ . 

Cas wasn’t going to. He hadn’t come to Washington for that. Though now that he thinks about it, he understands why it may look like that to Dean. Tie up all loose ends, go to the spot where your brother killed himself, and follow him into the unknown. 

Cas shudders. 

No. That hadn’t been his motivation. He wants to tie up the loose ends so that he won’t keep stumbling over them when he tries to move forward. That’s what he wants. 

He lets his thumb glide over the screen, caressing Dean’s messages in lieu of the actual person. “I got no idea how I deserve you. I mean I don’t deserve you. I know that. But…”

He smiles a bit more. It’s a good feeling. Something like hope is blossoming in his heart, even while it warms him all over that Dean is doing his best to take care of him. Yeah, he doesn’t deserves Dean’s forgiveness, but it feels good to think that maybe he’s got it anyway. 

Cas types a reply, deletes it, starts all over. It’s impossible to put into words what he feels for Dean. He’s never allowed himself to find words for it before and now they desert him. After the fourth try he decides to start small. 

_ Cas @Dean: Thank you. For still being here. For listening. I’m grateful. _

_ Cas @Dean: I drank water and took an aspirin.  _

And that’s the easy things over with. Now comes the hard part. 

_ Cas @Dean: I’m not planning to kill myself. That’s not why I left. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you. _

The first sentence is too blunt and the last sentence is too honest and Cas shivers just reading the message because he’s spent a lifetime carefully avoiding to be open about what he feels and it makes him slightly nauseous to do it now. But he still hits  _ send _ . 

Dean deserves it. And maybe, just maybe, says a tiny voice inside his mind, Cas deserves it as well. Deserves to have his feelings heard. 

_ Cas @Dean: I came here to do exactly what I’m doing. To learn how to deal instead of hiding the past.  _

_ Cas @Dean: I know that nobody said it would be easy. I just also didn’t expect it to be this hard.  _

_ Cas @Dean: But I want to make sure I don’t hurt you anymore.  _

_ Cas @Dean: Not in any way you don’t want to be hurt, that is. _

The reply comes much faster than Cas expects. 

_ Dean @Cas: Dude, did you just quote Coldplay at me??? _

The message is so completely and utterly Dean, that it makes Cas chuckle and fondly shake his head even though he’s still feeling like shit.

_ Cas @Dean: THAT’s what you took away from that? _

He’s even still smiling when Dean’s next message comes in.

_ Dean @Cas: Do you have any food at home? _

Cas sighs, his smile falling. It’s a practical question and a caring one, but he had hoped they could keep their banter up for a moment longer. It had felt light, normal almost. 

_ Cas @Dean: No.  _

_ Dean @Cas: Then go get something. Try to make it something with more calories than rabbit food, okay? I swear I have no idea how you and Sam survive on that stuff.  _

The thought of having to go out to get food robs Cas of energy just thinking about it. Still, they’d had a moment of normalcy, so he tries to get that back by answering in a way he would have, back before all of this happened. 

_ Cas @Dean: Because it’s nutritious, Dean. You should try it.  _

There is no immediate answer. A minute goes by and nothing. Cas looks back over his message, but it wasn’t anything that overstepped any boundaries. He doesn’t think so at least. 

His fingers are hovering over the keyboard, ready to type a second message to ask what’s wrong, when finally a message from Dean comes in.   


_ Dean @Cas: I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do it if you feed it to me in person. _

_ Dean @Cas: Not feed-feed. Oh hell, you know what I mean.  _

_ Dean @Cas: I’m honest to God blushing. Charlie is laughing her ass off.  _

Cas stares at the messages uncomprehending. There is too much going on in those few sentences. He zeroes in on the one thing that makes the least sense. 

_ Cas @Dean: In person? _

There’s another long moment before the answer comes through. 

_ Dean @Cas: Yeah. _

_ Dean @Cas: You’d have to text me your address, obviously.  _

Cas still stares at the message dumbfounded when the next one comes in.

_ Dean @Cas: I told Bobby I have a family emergency.  _

_ Dean @Cas: Whatever else we are, we’re still family, Cas. You need me, I’m there.  _

And just like that, Cas bursts into tears again. 

It takes him a few minutes to compose himself and then another few minutes to compose an answer. His stomach tumbles over itself at the thought of Dean being right here, next to him on this couch. At the same time, he’s not sure. He’s not sure he’s actually gotten to where he wanted to be yet. Not sure he can be near Dean without hurting him. 

_ Cas @Dean: I’m scared.  _

It’s maybe the most honest he’s ever been. 

_ Dean @Cas: I get it. Go find some food. Think about it. Tell me when you’ve decided.  _

And when did Dean turn this calm and rational while Cas turned into a big mess? He shakes his head. It’s possible that they’ve always been this way and he’d just been too dense to notice how much Dean actually bolstered him up. How much of his own functioning was only due to Dean. 

_ Charlie @Cas: I’m not going to stop him from coming to see you because he deserves his shot at happiness. And I believe that if you actually get your shit together, you two can be good together. But hurt him again like you did before, and I’m coming to find you to personally rip you apart. And believe me, I’m stronger than I look. _

For a second, anger wants to bubble up in him, even though he knows he deserves this. But this is between him and Dean, Charlie has no place in it. He literally growls before he notices what he’s doing. Goddammit. Now he’s jealous of Dean’s friends? He really needs to get out and get some fresh air and clear his head. 

_ Cas @Charlie: Thank you for being there. I’m glad he’s got a friend looking out for him. _

He writes it with gritted teeth, but at least he writes it. It’s true, too, even though the knowledge that Dean needs protection from him galls. 

He wants to write something to Dean, too, but he he has no idea what. So finally he settles on,

_ Cas @Dean: Okay. I will do that. Til later. _

It’s enough to not leave Dean hanging, but it doesn’t necessitate Cas putting his warring feelings into words. 

Instead, he goes and changes into his runner’s clothes. His mind needs settling beyond what food can provide. So pushing his physical limits it is. 

 

Almost two hours later, Cas is cooling down with a slow jog. He’s found a hiking trail near his apartment that leads along abandoned railway tracks and a small river, and every day he chooses a different one of the many crossings that lead back into the city, letting himself drift back into the lively streets and feeling like an adventurer when he discovers new neighborhoods or sometimes some that he remembers from childhood. It’s not as reckless as it sounds, seeing how on this side of the river all the neighborhoods are more or less friendly.

He slows to a walk when he recognizes today’s area. He’s been here before. It’s been a long time, but he knows the street names. He follows them almost instinctually for a while, rounding corners that look preserved in time. A sleepy neighborhood with picket fences and older houses, that for once look matured more than run down. His progress through the houses seems slow for some reason. 

Then, when walking past an old oak tree, his mind finally catches up with where he’s going. 

Hannah’s. He’s walking towards Hannah’s.

Which also explains why he feels like his progress is so slow. Hannah’s was too far to walk to from his old home, so he usually took his bike when visiting her. 

Cas chuckles mirthlessly. Meeting a girl, in her home nonetheless, where Naomi couldn’t control what they’d be up to, should have been a no go. But Naomi was too relieved when one of her younger sons actually showed any interest in a girl, that she’d let it slide. 

Not that Cas had ever been interested in Hannah that way. Or that she would have wanted to actually do anything with him, even though he thinks that Dean wasn’t wrong. Hannah would have been interested in him, had Cas reciprocated. But she wanted love, not sex, far as Cas could tell. She wanted something that had meaning. 

Well, Cas can’t find anything wrong with that. 

And Hannah had stuck by him after the camp and foster care. Hadn’t cared what anyone else in their fancy-pancy Christian school had said, she’d still come to sit with him at lunch and she’d gone to prom with him as a platonic date so that he didn’t have to go alone. He’d never not be grateful for that. 

Of course he had lost contact with her then, and had no idea where to find her now. He doubted Balthazar or Missouri would know. Their social circles didn’t overlap. But then, well, there was a chance that Hannah’s parents still lived here. And he was already almost at their doorstep. It was unconventional, yes, to have an old highschool friend of your daughter’s show up in sweated-through runner’s clothes, but it didn’t scream  _ serial killer _ , so they might just give out her address. 

Well, Cas decided, he really had absolutely nothing to lose. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, the story is officially on hiatus due to creative differences and life. It will be back. Probably.


	11. Forgiven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, a minor miracle has happened! Not only is the hiatus over and we have a new chapter for you, no we have indeed _finished_ this story and will be updating regularly for the next few weeks until the story is complete. Enjoy!  <3.

Cas doesn't really know how he ended up here, sitting at the table with Hannah and drinking coffee. Well, technically, he is well aware of how he got here. He had a moment of shock outside, when it was Hannah in the garden, not her mother, he got invited for dinner, he tried to say No, she didn’t accept it and even offered to let him use the shower. Then there was an introduction to Hannah’s husband, a nice meal accompanied by small talk and now they’re sitting here while her husband cleans the dishes. Technically, it all makes sense.

Yet, he feels lost. Like he’s watching himself from the outside and someone else has taken over his life. 

“Now, tell me, where have you been all these years?“ Hannah asks.

Cas looks at her puzzled. “I already told you that. I went to college and settled in Kansas.“

“That is not what I meant,“ Hannah shakes her head and starts over. “Look, you were my best friend and you vanished. I’m glad to see you but it would be nice to hear your story. The whole story. If you want to tell me about it, that is.“

That hits close to home. “I was your best friend?” he asks somewhat unbelieving. 

Hannah looks directly into his eyes as if to make sure that there is no doubt when she answers. “Of course you were.” 

Her eyes are warm but Cas can’t hold them. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, because he knows that it is his fault that they’ve lost contact. He’s fucked so many friendships up over the years.

“Oh Castiel,” Hannah takes his hand to hold it for a moment, “don’t feel guilty. You were going through such a hard time. And you were carrying all that weight on your own.”

Castiel shrugs uncomfortably. “It was okay as long - as long as I had Gabe.” The name just barely wants to make it out. But he struggles through it. No more pretending that his brother didn’t exist. “But after that...,” he shakes his head. 

“You were so strong,” Hannah’s eyes stare into space, like she’s looking back through the years. “Always. I admired you a lot for it.”

“What? No, I wasn’t…”

“Yes, Castiel, you were,” she interrupts him. “You were so before - before Naomi sent you away, and you were still strong when you got back.”

“But I wasn’t,” Castiel’s voice wavers. “I was broken.”

Hannah watches him for a long moment. “No. You weren’t. I wasn’t surprised that you retreated from the world after what happened at that camp and with your brother. Of course you didn’t trust anymore. But you were never broken, Castiel. You were still stubbornly you.”  
He looks away, fiddles with his cup of coffee, because what she says strikes a chord, but it’s also not what he expected to hear. 

“I’m sorry I’m being pushy. I’ve had a lot of time to think about all of this. But really, I’m just hoping that things worked out for you.”

“I, umm,” he doesn’t know what to say, and Hannah doesn’t say anything else. But he still wants to tell her at least something. “It's strange. I have avoided this town for so long. It’s different than I expected. Being back.“ It’s a start, even though it’s a small one. 

“What did you expect?” Hannah asks curiously. 

“I don’t know. A checklist that I could check off? Remember this, do that, suddenly things are better?” He smiles a little sheepishly. “It sounds very naive, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” Hannah agrees and gives him a fond smile. “Also sounds much like you. You always were a fan of checklists and of being in control.”

“I was?” he frowns. 

She laughs. “You color-coded your notes in school! And you made your lab partners color theirs in the same system.”

“Huh.” He had forgotten that. “They did it, too, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Hannah agrees. “Actually, I think, in middle school you made teachers color-code their scripts at least twice, too. It was important to you.” 

He shakes his head, though the corners of his mouth are drawn up in a smile at the memory. “I was a weird kid.”

“Weren’t we all?” Hannah replies with a chuckle. “I kind of always thought you’d go on to have a big career. You were a natural at getting people to do things better than they would on their own. It screamed CEO to me.”

“Well, no, I have no interest in that,” Castiel says but he can feel the slight flush on his face. “So you think it made people better, me telling them what to do?”

Hannah looks at him a little weird, and yeah, he guesses the question sounds strange. He knows that his blush is deepening. 

“Never mind,” he waves the question off. “It was just a thought.” An important one, though, even if he has no interest in telling Hannah why.

“So, on the risk that I’m sounding nosy, is there a reason for why you came now?” Hannah asks.

“Well, yeah,” Cas nods. Dean. He doesn’t really want to share that with Hannah, though. But there are other things that he can share. Because she was there when things happened. She already knows. He doesn’t need to explain. “Ever since I left, well, actually ever since I left Missouri’s after… Ever since, a part of me has felt like it’s running. Away from - from the things that happened. From everything they’d done to me. From everything that I’d given up and that I’d become. And now, I guess, I’m sick of running.” Cas averts his eyes and just hopes that she understands. 

And indeed, she reaches over to touch his hand lightly. “So you are here for both your brother and for yourself. I’m glad.” 

Cas gives her a smile, half because he’s happy about her understanding, half because he’s actually a little bit proud of himself for doing this. “It’s been years. I think it’s time. I want to finally be able to face this.” 

“Years don’t always make things easier. I’m glad that you are doing better now,” Hannah says.

Cas nods. He is not good, far from it. But he is so much better than he was last week, or even this morning. Because sitting here, Hannah sharing memories and smiling kindly at him, it gives him a fuzzy feeling of warmth. It’s different from when he’s talking to Dean. With Dean, there’s so much that is yet unknown. With Hannah, there is none of that tension. There is guilt there, too, but Cas has a feeling that it is long since forgiven. And that in itself is a precious gift. That there is someone, who he hadn’t even talked to in years, who he has not always treated kindly, and who still has his back. 

Actually, his whole trip to Washington seems to be filled with people of this kind: Missouri, Balthazar, and now Hannah. It makes a knowledge that he had forgotten for a long time seep back into him: He is not alone. There are people out there who he can count on. 

His face flushes again, in shame this time, because Dean is one of these people as well. And for months and months on end, Cas has shut him out. Has pretended to be alone when Dean had always been by his side. Has seen him as a burden even, when Dean was what kept him stable. He sees that now. 

“Castiel?” Hannah asks, worry tinging her voice. 

And yeah, there are tears in the corners of his eyes, which Cas not so surreptitiously wipes away. He’s fucked up so much, trusting only himself. He sees that now.

“You gave me a set of pencils for my twelfth birthday.” His voice cracks only a little. 

“I did,” Hannah confirms. 

He puts a hand on her arm and squeezes it for a moment. “Thank you. You figured it out at 12, when I’m only figuring it out now.”

“You’re figuring out what?”

Castiel gives her a smile. “That even the bossiest color coder sometimes needs help.”

She laughs out loud at that, but her eyes stay gentle. 

“It’s been a long way, coming here,” Cas says, exhausted but still with a smile in his voice.

Hannah’s laughter dissolves, a steep frown appearing on her forehead. “You know, I was furious when I learned what happened. I think I never told you, but I’d asked about you that summer and Naomi told me you were at summer camp. I was disappointed and hurt that you hadn’t told me. But then you didn’t come back to school, and when you finally did come back, you...,” she shakes her head. “Adults tend to believe teenagers are not aware of what is happening but I knew how to listen and I heard enough… I wish I could have helped you. But there was nothing I could do. You had to carry everything alone. I’m still so sorry for that…”

Cas shakes his head: “Don’t be. You were one of the few friends who stayed by my side. It’s not your fault that I was too messed up to tell you how much I appreciated that. And I did. You know that, right?”

Hannah smiles, though it isn’t a wide smile, it’s small and contemplative. “I had hoped. But it’s good to hear it.”

Cas bites his lip. “Then I’m glad that I’m getting to say it. And - thank you. For inviting me in today.”

“You’re always welcome here, Castiel.”

“I know. I know that now. And it is - it is good to talk to someone who knows. Who was there when - things happened. I have trouble still, talking about this with - with people who deserve to know. Even when I want them to know all of me, it’s - difficult.”

Hannah raises her eyebrows. “You didn’t mention that you’ve got someone.”

“I, umm, am not actually sure I’ve still got him. I only told him today. About what happened to me. And about Gabe.”

He can’t help it, he watches Hannah like a hawk. Watches for any sign of disgust, now that he’s mentioned the gender of his partner. But her eyes stay gentle.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid…” Hannah quotes with a private little smile. “Opening up is a good thing, Castiel. It can only help.”

Cas doesn’t have it in him to accept the sentiment or to smile back. “But I do fear, Hannah, and there is so much more darkness than light.”

“You will find your way. I have faith in it,” Hannah says with conviction. 

“I don’t,” Cas confesses. “I don’t believe anymore. Not like I did.”

For a heartbeat, they’re both silent. Then Hannah says softly. “I’ll pray for you that you find something to believe in. It doesn’t have to be the Bible or even God. But something that gives you hope.”

Immediately, all his muscles lock up and his stomach revolts. It’s not her fault, of course. She doesn't know how often he heard that his jailers were going to pray for him right before they sent another electroshock through his body. He shudders and has to force his body still before he can grit out a “thank you.” 

Hannah notices that something is wrong, apparently, because the frown is back and then she changes the topic. “Have you visited her yet?”

It’s clear who she means without her having to explain it. His mother. “Oh God, no,” Cas shakes his head fervently. “We have no contact.”

“I know,” Hannah answers, her expression suddenly guilty. 

“You do?” Cas asks confused.

Hannah shrugs uncomfortably. “I visit her from time to time. She is lonely.”

“Well.” It’s Cas’ turn to shrug. Naomi has always had a lot of acquaintances but she’s too self-righteous for anyone to get close and become her friend.

“I understand. As I said, I was furious with her, too. And when I first went to her, it was only because I thought she might know where you had disappeared to. Only, when I was there… She was so alone. Michael is the only one who occasionally visits. And you know how he is.”

“Michael? Really? What about Luke?” Cas asks because he had been reasonably sure that his older brothers would be fighting for their Mom’s attention, even if it was only because they wanted to ensure their inheritance. 

“Disappeared without a trace. Not unlike you,” Hannah replies. 

“I didn’t -”, but then maybe he had. “I didn’t leave a forwarding address but I never hid,” he clarifies. “She never came looking for me.” 

Which, for all his mother’s faults, grates. That he’s been such a disappointment to her, that she’d never even come looking when after college he’d moved out of the dorms and didn’t give her his new address or phone number. He didn’t even move out of town, though. She would have found him, had she tried. 

“You were lost to her already,” Hannah says patiently. “She knew it.”

“Well, she is the one who sent me into that darkest valley,” he bites. “So it’s not necessarily a surprise that I’m not her fan.” 

“I know,” Hannah nods. “She hasn’t forgiven herself for it, either. Or for Gabriel.”

“Well, she shouldn’t. I definitely haven’t forgiven her,” Cas growls.

“Well, you’d have to talk to her for that,” Hannah points out. “See that she’s changed. Forgiveness cannot be forced. But it can be worked towards.”

“Tell me one reason why I should,” Cas snaps exasperatedly. “Why I should even make the effort when Gabe will never get the chance to live his life. To laugh again. To breathe again. When he’ll forever be dead.”

Hannah isn’t even taken aback by his outburst. “To move on,” she answers without hesitation. “To stop running from the past and live your life. You deserve that, Castiel. You do. And isn't that what you want? Why you are here? To stop running?”

Cas shakes his head, though his anger is falling in on itself. “I can’t face her. This is different. And besides, I didn’t even make it to the cemetery to visit Gabe. How would I make it to her house?”

“With help,” Hannah smiles, “and faith. You can do anything if you have that.”

Cas sighs deeply. “I wish I had that faith.”

“If you haven't, I will have it for you until you find it again. You used to be so faithful, I don't think it vanished completely,” Hannah says.

Cas wishes with all of his heart that this were true. That not everything got destroyed in that camp, that this strange and strong feeling of belonging he had before is still somewhere hidden inside him.

Well, he swallows heavily. He knows an approximation of it still. The closest he ever got to having this feeling back was with Dean. Mere moments, deep at night, when they were cuddled together after an intense scene, their defenses broken down and the bond between them so palpable that Cas is sure he wouldn’t even have had to touch Dean to still feel him. Moments, when they were beyond words anyway, so it didn’t matter that they didn’t ever find them. 

He misses that. Well, he misses all of Dean. But it was those moments, when he knew it with all of his heart that this was it. That Dean was the one. When he didn’t fight against the knowledge, either. 

He’d almost forgotten that. Buried under his guilt, the only way he’d seen was to run. To get away so that he could not hurt Dean anymore. But he has no doubt that Dean felt their connection in these moments, too. In fact, Dean has told him as much. Has told him that he was always committed. 

Sometimes, when you fall you crash and burn. Sometimes, you fly. And sometimes, there is someone there to catch you. 

And that, that is worth fighting for.

….

Finally, when he’s already in bed, he turns his phone back on. There are no new messages. He swallows and gathers his courage. Then he types,

Cas @Dean: I haven’t made it to the cemetery yet. I can’t seem to get past the gates. I think I could do it if you were here.  
Cas @Dean: I’m sorry to put this on you. I will not be upset if you bow out.  
Cas @Dean: [screenshot of map with address attached]

It takes half an hour before Cas gets an answer. 

Dean @Cas: I’ll be there tomorrow.


	12. Reboot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: If you read the previously posted chapter in the first around 2 hours after it got posted, you got an older version of the chapter. It doesn't change much but you might want to reread or at least check out the section where Cas and Hannah talk about the set of colored pencils she's given him for his 12th birthday. ;)

Dean is staring out of the front window. He’s parked in the lot in front of the apartment building that was indicated on Cas’ map. 

For the whole trip, all its long hours, Dean has managed to let the rumble of the Impala soothe him. To repress the nervousness in his stomach and keep going. But now that he’s here and the engine is cooling down, there is no buffer anymore. All he has to do is get out of the car and move the few steps to the building to ring the doorbell and Cas will open and he’ll see him again. 

Will meet the Cas that he fell in love with, not the one that’s behaving like a jerk to make Dean’s stubborn ass go away. He thinks, anyway. 

He isn’t sure what scares him more, the thought that the Cas he’s been on the phone with on Saturday has disappeared again, or the thought that he’s still there. 

Well, nothing to do but go ahead to find it out. 

Still, first of all he takes out his phone. 

_ Dean @Charlie: Check in. I’m here. About to go in.  _

He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer. 

_ Charlie @Dean: Thanks for letting me know. If I haven’t heard anything from you in two hours, I’m going to call, okay? _

_ Dean @Charlie: Don’t call the police on him if I’m answering five minutes late.  _

_ Charlie @Dean: No promises. We’ve agreed not to take this lightly.  _

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbles and represses his eyeroll. 

He’s still not sure whether it’s heart-warming what Charlie is doing or completely obnoxious. Cas isn’t some Dom he picked up in a bar. He isn’t an unknown quantity that needs a security net in place to make sure he doesn’t murder Dean. 

Still, Dean has agreed to the safe calls because one, it was the best way to get Charlie off his back, and two, she’s managed to more or less convince him that yeah, having a third person to talk to is not a bad idea. And he’s sure as hell not going to explain any details of his and Cas’ dynamics to his brother. But texting Charlie in regular intervals and having her call once a day so she can make sure he’s actually okay? He can deal with that. 

He takes a deep breath and pulls up another contact. 

_ Dean @Cas: I’m here.  _

And with that, there is no backing out anymore. Dean grabs his overnight bag from the backseat and makes his way to the house and up to Cas’ floor. 

The door is open when Dean makes it there. Cas is leaning in the doorframe, shoulders hunched, both hands tucked deep into his jeans pockets, biting his lips nervously. His hair is sticking in all directions and he’s wearing jeans that are fraying at the bottom and an AC/DC shirt that has seen much better days. 

Dean stops a few feet in front of him. “Hey, Cas.” 

He smiles somewhat shyly, not quite sure what to do with the man in front of him, who is looking nothing like the lawyer in a suit and tie that Dean is used to being greeted by. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

The gravel in Cas’ voice shoots right down Dean’s spine but he balls his hand into a fist and tries not to let it affect him. He’s not here for that. “Can I come in?” he asks instead. 

“Oh yes, of course. I’m sorry,” Cas apologizes and steps out of the way so Dean can pass. “Please come in.”

He makes it two steps in and drops his travel bag before he turns back to Cas, who stands frozen in the doorframe, watching Dean like he’s seeing a ghost. 

“Would a hug be too much?” Dean asks even though he had planned on not being the one to initiate any physical contact. But Cas looks small and vulnerable in his oversized shirt, and there’s been nothing else that Dean wanted to do ever since Saturday but to hug Cas to make things better. 

“I…” But Cas’ voice breaks even on the one word and then he’s stepping forward silently and holds his arms out and Dean breathes a sigh of relief when he’s finally allowed to wrap him in his arms. 

He holds him tight, too, while Cas is burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, and it’s weird because Cas is clinging and shaking and usually it is Dean who does these things. 

But now he pulls him closer, drops a kiss on top of his head and murmurs, “It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay.”

And then Cas is crying and Dean holds him through it. 

Even with Cas trembling, it feels good. It feels like a part that had been missing from his life has been given back to him. It’s a dangerous feeling and Dean recognizes it as such, but he doesn’t let go. Not until the tears have dried and Cas’ hands slacken in their grip on Dean’s flannel. 

He clears his throat a little awkwardly and pushes out of the embrace, then. 

But Cas doesn’t let him get too far. He holds on to his arms when Dean wants to let go. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

“Told you I would be,” Dean says. 

“I just - I guess I didn’t really believe it.” Cas blushes and averts his eyes. “Here, let me show you - the apartment is small.”

Cas picks up Dean’s travel bag and leads him through the living room / kitchen combination towards the bedroom. 

“Umm, Cas?” Dean hesitates when Cas drops Dean’s bag on the bed. 

“Oh no, it’s not,” Cas colors again. “I didn’t mean to insinuate. I will sleep on the couch. There just isn’t a second bedroom.”

Dean watches Cas for another moment, then he nods. “Thank you.”

Cas smiles, still somewhat awkward and his hands fly through the air nervously when he asks, “Are you hungry? I can prepare some sandwiches for us.”

He backs out of the room without really giving Dean time to reply. And that’s not how this is going to be. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean calls him back.

“Yeah?” Cas turns around insecurely. 

“Let’s sit down on the couch with those sandwiches, okay? Let’s talk.”

Cas’ eyes turn impossibly wider, reminding Dean of a frightened owl, but he nods before he quickly turns towards the kitchen. 

Dean rubs a hand through his hair. This is going to be interesting. 

After a quick wash and exchanging the sweated-through flannel against a t-shirt, Dean goes out to the living room. Cas is still puttering around in the kitchen so Dean uses the opportunity to text Charlie. 

_ Dean @Charlie: He’s more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. No red flags. No need to worry. _

“Who are you writing?” Cas sets down a plate with sandwiches on the table. “That is, if you want to tell me,” he adds. 

“It’s okay,” Dean says, hits send and lets his phone glide back into his pocket. “It’s just Charlie.” He bites his lip and looks up at Cas with some apprehension. “I’m going to text her regularly while I’m here. And she’s going to call once a day. I’ll take the calls, too. No matter what we’re currently doing.”

The color drains out of Cas’ face when he gets what Dean is saying. He lets himself sink to the floor where he is instead of sitting down on the couch. “You established safe calls.”

Dean nods tightly. “And I plan to play them by the book. Though, for the record, it wasn’t me who thought them necessary.”

Cas draws his legs closer to his body, slings his arms around them protectively. “They’ve got a point,” he whispers tonelessly.

And that looks very much like Cas is already closing up. Dean doesn’t like it. 

“Cas? Come up on the couch, please.” He makes his voice firm for the request. 

“Dean, please,” Cas shakes his head. 

“I’m not scared of you, Cas,” Dean talks right over him. “Have never been. I agreed with Charlie because she’s right about one thing: It’s good to have someone have your back. Please come up here so that we can talk. On the same level. Equals, remember?”

He holds out a hand and after another moment of hesitation, Cas reaches out and lets himself be drawn to his feet. He sits down on the opposite end of the couch, as far away from Dean as the small space allows. 

It’s weird. They’ve always been in each other’s space, as long as Dean remembers. He tends to blame Cas for the lack of personal space, but really, he’s always been searching Cas out as well. Even when they were officially separated. And Cas has always reacted to it, too, even if it was in aggressive ways. He’s never taken himself back deliberately like he’s doing now. 

Dean’s not sure what he thinks about it. As a rule, he’s not a big fan of space between him and Cas. 

Then on the other hand, he has the nagging feeling that they’ve used touch as a replacement for words when communicating. Dean leaning into Cas’ knees when kneeling between his legs to communicate his content. Cas stroking a hand through Dean’s hair to show him he’s pleased. Even their feelings for each other were usually expressed skin on skin. Cas leaving fingerprints or sucking dark bruises to mark Dean as his. Dean in turn kissing and worshipping every part of Cas’ body whenever their play allowed for it. 

They had both known that it meant to say  _ I want you  _ without it ever spilling over into the dreaded  _ I love you _ . Dean’s got a feeling that if they try this again, it won’t be enough anymore.That they’ll have to allow themselves the word  _ love _ . Even though it’s complicated and frail, so brittle it might break on their tongues. But he can’t go back to where they’d been. 

All of that is too much for now, though, so Dean starts simple. “Sam says Hi. I, uhh, told him about your brother. Hope that was okay.” 

Cas gulps heavily but he nods. “I didn’t tell you my secrets just for them to become yours. I’m weighing you down enough as is.” 

“Dude,” Dean shakes his head. “You’re like completely off track.” And because Cas doesn’t look convinced, he adds, “I’m glad you came into my life, Cas. There’s not a second when I’ve regretted that. And yes, that still holds true.”

“But, Dean, I’ve been horrible to you!” 

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, that’s true, I guess. Kind of knew why you were doing it, though. So, you still scared?”

Cas looks at him with wide eyes again. 

“Well, you wanted to push me away cause you were scared. How about now? Are you still scared, now that you’ve told me the part of yourself that I’d been missing?”

“I’m…” Cas seems too taken aback to actually answer. 

“Look, Cas,” Dean continues and this is really not how he’s planned to go about this but now it seems fitting. “I’m gonna make myself very clear, okay? I’m going to be there for you. I’m gonna go to the graveyard with you and I’m gonna platonically hold your hand if that is what you need. I’m going to be your friend, if that is what you want. But I from my side…” He falters after all when he notices how Cas watches him with this freaky intensity he can turn on at will. 

“But you from your side?” Cas prompts, the words as intense as his gaze, even though they’re quiet. 

“I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, Cas. That hasn’t changed,” Dean confesses.

“Does that mean you’d,” Cas clears his throat, “you’d give me a second chance?”

“Yeah, Cas. That’s exactly what it means.” He fidgets somewhat nervously. “But I’d like to, uhh, renegotiate.”

Cas frowns. “But… Didn’t you say you didn’t want to do that anymore?”

“Not as we did it, no. Hence, renegotiations.” His voice is getting steadier with the repetition. Right. He can do this. 

“Okay?” Cas says carefully. “Do you, umm, want to talk about this right now? I mean,” he adds hastily,” not that I don’t want to talk about it. Just, if it’s too early, if we first want to see how this is going…”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts him. “Answer me one question. Do you still want this? Do you still want - us?” 

He thinks he knows the answer. It’s the only reason why his voice doesn’t tremble when he asks.

“I -,” Cas swallows heavily. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply like he’s gathering strength. “Always. I’ll always want you, Dean. I’m just - I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

Dean breathes a sigh of relief. “We’ll see about that last part, okay? But if you still want me and I still want you, then that’s enough reason to talk about this.”

Cas squints at him. “You’re different.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve always known what I want. Only thing that’s different is that I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t get lost in translation.”

“That makes you be different,” Cas insists. 

Which okay, maybe. “Good or bad?” Dean asks. 

“Good, I think,” Cas smiles shyly. 

“Well, you too,” Dean smiles back.

And just like that they’re both smiling at each other and blushing a little. 

“Well,” Dean finally clears his throat and looks away. “Anyway, I’m glad we’re on the same page. This far, anyway.”

“We are on the same page, Dean.” For the first time, Cas’s voice seems to gather strength and is somewhat more normal. “I had figured that part out, too. That if we want to have any chance at this, we have to make changes.”

“That’s, uhh, good.” Dean is actually a little surprised by the open admission. He had kind of feared he’d have to do all the talking. But this is good. Better than expected, really. And Dean had some hope when he came here. “Do you want to tell me what you were thinking?”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “But not right now. I want to hear you out first.”

That makes Dean smile. “New start, huh?”

“Yes,” Cas nods earnestly. “I’m not going to assume I know what you need or want anymore. That wasn’t working.”

“To be fair, you’re actually pretty good at it. In the, uhh, sexual department anyway. And it’s kind of my own fault that I never really told you what I was feeling.”

Cas frowns. “If you want to assign blame, we’ll have to assign it to both of us. I thought that the talk on Saturday made that clear.”

Dean hums assent and uses it as a segue into the deeper part of this conversation. “Then let’s start there with the negotiations.” He takes deep breath and takes the plunge. “I want clarity on where we’re headed. I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you into getting a house with a picket fence and 1.75 kids, but I need to know where I stand. If you can’t commit to a future, I need to know so that I can react accordingly.”

Though the thought alone makes him nauseous. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do if Cas indeed decides that he wants to stay with Dean but without any long-term commitment. Whether Dean’s urge to be close to the person he loves, or his instincts for self-preservation are going to win out on that one. 

But for now, he doesn’t have to think about that. Because their agreement is that in official relationship negotiations everyone gets their say without being interrupted, and then everyone gets time to think before answering.

“You need to know where we stand commitment-wise,” Cas nods and repeats back to him to show that he’s gotten the point. 

He looks a little more relaxed than he did a minute ago. Dean thinks it’s a good sign. 

“What else?”

The next one is harder to word because it is much harder to grasp. “I want us to talk. To really talk. I mean, it doesn’t have to be a structured time-frame but - it kinda tells me what you feel towards me when you fuck my brains out, but it also kind of doesn’t. And I can’t support you right when all I know is that you’re cuddly and a little clingy, but I don’t know whether it is because your day at the job sucked or because it’s the anniversary of your brother’s death.”

Cas makes an involuntary noise at that but he doesn’t interrupt, so Dean goes on. 

“I want to know, Cas. I want to know who you are. The good and the bad. You don’t have to hide and you don’t have to be strong all the time to protect me. I’m a whole person. I appreciate it that you care, but I can protect myself.” 

“I know,” Cas replies. “I know that you don’t need me.”

“It’s not about that,” Dean shakes his head, wanting to make sure his point comes across. “We both have needs, obviously, but that’s not why we’re with each other. I mean, at least for me it isn’t. I’m with you, cause I want to be with you. Cause you make my life better by being in it. It’s not about what you can give me. It’s just about liking you. Understand?”

It doesn’t look like Cas really does, or like he actually believes it, but he nods and mumbles “okay”, which is all Dean needs right this second. 

“Wanna do the repeat thing?”

“You want us to talk about our feelings,” Cas summarizes.

Dean snorts at the plain wording and Cas better never tell Sam about this conversation or Dean’s in for merciless teasing until the end of all eternity. “Yeah, that. Which kind of seamlessly fits with my last point, actually.” He takes another deep breath. “I need a marker. I don’t care what it is, I’ll leave that up to you. A collar, a new wristband, whatever you think is a good idea. But we’re not so good with the dynamics when they spill over into everything. So I want a clear separation between play time and the rest of our lives.”

He’d discussed that one with Charlie for a significant amount of time. She had been slightly horrified that they had neither 24 hours rules nor a separation between their playtime and their downtime. She’d mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like  _ idiots  _ and  _ no wonder _ .

“You want a collar?” Cas sounds completely flabbergasted. 

“Well I ain’t gonna ask for a ring while we’re discussing whether we even want to get back together,” Dean deadpans. 

Cas’ eyes open impossibly wider. “A ring?” he stutters. 

“Uhh, okay,” Dean backtracks. “Let’s stay with the collar for now. Or wristband. Or whatever. You getting why I want that?”

Cas gapes at him for another moment before he shakes himself out of it. Then he nods. “Because it’ll make clear when you give me power and when you don’t.”

“And because it’ll make clear that I  _ have  _ power to exchange. And thus also power to help. That you don’t have to carry the whole fucking world on your own. Capisce?”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “I capisce.” 

But his eyes wander to Dean’s neck and then to his own hands and he touches his ring finger absentmindedly and Dean’s got the feeling that Cas has expected everything but not this. Not an admission that Dean wants on outward sign that he belongs to Cas, even if it’s used only between them and as a playtime marker. But a collar is still something that he wouldn’t let just anyone put on him and Cas knows it. Knows all of his kink history and that he’s never given a Dom permission for this before. 

So yeah. Maybe it’s unexpected. But it feels right. Like it’s a step in the right direction. 

Dean nods to himself and looks back up at Cas. “Alright then. That’s it from my side. Your turn.”


	13. Forward

“Dean, that - You caught me off guard.” 

It’s a stupid sentence but it’s the only one that makes it to his mouth. It’s like his whole brain has grinded to a halt, and forcing out any words is an enormous effort. Cas’ eyes flit up to Dean, catching his eyes, then find his neck and flit back down.

“With this?” Dean asks and touches his throat self-consciously. “The collar thing?”

Dean has most definitely caught him off guard with that but it’s not what Cas means. His fingers search for purchase and find only his own ratty jeans. Why had he thought wearing them was a good idea? “With the renegotiations,” he clarifies. 

“Oh,” Dean says. His face falls a little. “Too much? Too soon? I’m sorry if I steamrolled you. That wasn’t the intention. I just - I wanted to be clear, this time around…” He trails off. 

With some effort, Cas collects his hands in his lap, keeping them from both reaching out to Dean and trembling. He’ll allow them neither, so they better get with the program. 

He thinks the harsh thoughts towards himself and in response sees Missouri frowning at him. That’s getting seriously obnoxious, the whole thing where his subconsciousness has taken on the shape of his Granny. Even though she usually seems to be right. 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Honesty. He owes it to Dean and to himself. So he can’t start like this again. 

He wills his hands open, lays them palm up on his knees. They do start to tremble then, but this time, he doesn’t hide it. Instead, he turns another inch to Dean, opening himself up even more. It makes him feel slightly sick. 

They’ve shared so much already, have been inside each other’s bodies, and yet, all of this feels more vulnerable than anything they’ve done before. 

Cas stares at the sandwiches where they sit untouched, the lettuce slowly wilting. He couldn’t eat them for the life of him. 

“Cas? I mean it, we can stop,” Dean says, his voice worried.

When Cas looks over to him again, Dean’s eyes have zoomed in on Cas’ hands before they find his face again, worry only increasing. 

Again, Cas fights the impulse to hide. “I‘m scared,” he confesses. “I haven’t done this before.”

“Neither have I,” Dean says and there’s a slight smile in his voice. “Hey, we get to be each other’s first.”

Cas appreciates it, the effort to lighten the mood, to take some of the anxiety out of this. But there really is no way to do that, because Dean won’t like what Cas has to say. But he has to say it nonetheless. “Dean, I,” he starts and stops. He groans, frustrated at himself and his inability to word things as he should. But it’s unfair really, that Dean is here and gorgeous and caring and ready to try again and even ready to give himself to Cas, and...

“Hey Cas, it’s okay. I’m here. You tell me no, I’ll still be here.” 

Dean’s hand twitches and for a moment it looks like he wants to hold it out to Cas so that he can reach and take it. So that they’ll have a physical connection through all of this. But he doesn’t. He balls his hand into the fabric of his jeans, like he, too, is not allowing it to do what it wants to do. 

And somehow, that’s enough. The knowledge that they’d had almost the same reaction, establishes a connection just as well as if they had actually touched. “I would like to - if that’s okay, I would like to talk about the two things separately. About you and me and - about you and me and the collar.” 

It comes out more confidently than he feels. He’s acutely aware that they’re talking about new territory here. 

“Okay,” Dean nods and Cas breathes a little sigh of relief that he doesn’t make it a question. 

Cas still swallows heavily because baring his feelings like that makes him want to run. Finally, he just blurts, “I want to be with you. I always knew it but I buried it because it - because I was too scared of having a future. And then when we were apart, it became almost unbearable. And I came here and I wanted to work through my past to get better and I don’t think I’m anywhere close to -,” he takes a breath to stop his frantic rambling and tries to find the courage to get to his point. “But they told me about love. My granny and my brother’s boyfriend and even my old classmate.”

“Love?” Dean asks and suddenly he sits up straight. 

“Yes, Dean, love,” Cas confirms. “I had - it’s been a long time since I allowed myself to feel more than fondness. And,” he bites his lips because this isn’t going to be a pleasant thing to say, “I had not planned on letting you into my heart. Not beyond giving you pleasure and caring for you.” 

He sneaks a look at Dean, who is staring at his hands in his lap now. 

“But I have, Dean. I was so afraid of falling that I didn’t even notice - I didn’t even notice that I had already fallen for you and that you caught me without even thinking about it. I fell in love with you, Dean. I  _ am _ in love with you. And I want to be with you. Commitment and all.”

Dean’s hands are still cramped in his lap, but he looks at Cas now, searches his face. Cas has no problems holding his eyes. Not with this. He knows it as a deep truth in his heart. 

“Okay,” Dean nods finally, like he’s only now starting to believe it. “Okay.”

“There’s a catch, though.” Cas’ smile turns a little pained and his stomach does an uncomfortable little flip. 

“I’m listening,” Dean answers. He keeps his body language open, keeps himself turned towards Cas. 

It only makes it a little bit better. “I don’t trust myself with what you offer.” Cas presses the words out fast, to get them over with. “I can’t - I can’t put a collar on you and risk hurting you when something you say or do gets too close to - I can’t.”

He can’t look at Dean, doesn’t want to see either the disappointment or the relief. 

“You’re still scared.” There is no judgement in Dean’s voice. 

“Yes,” Cas whispers.

“But you still - do you even want to do this still? And don’t just say yes because of me! I’d go vanilla for you.” Dean chuckles then, an unexpected sound that makes Cas look up. “Jesus, never thought that that was going to be the height of romantic gestures for me, saying I wanna be with you even if you don’t want to tie me up and spank my ass.” He turns serious again. “But I would, Cas. You’re way more important than the kinky shit, okay?”

Dean blushes something furious and Cas is at a loss for words. So when he opens his mouth, he has no idea what’s going to come out. “I’m a color coder.”

“What?” Dean says puzzled. 

“I color code. Well, not anymore, but I did it in school. All the way from grade school onward.”

“Okay?” 

“I was like the most precise, neurotic color coder the school had ever seen.”

Suddenly, Dean chuckles. “Color coding, Cas? That’s your way of saying you always were a control freak?” 

It’s Cas’ turn to blush, but he doesn’t deny it. “I can’t say it for certain, obviously. That it’s all me. Even in grade school, my childhood was not - ideal. I had very little control over my life so I took what I could. But yes, I’m saying that I have always craved control. Over my own life, mainly, but…”

“But it’s not something that came only - after?”

“Exactly,” Cas nods, relieved that Dean understands without him having to explain every detail.

“Well then, what are you going to do about it?” Dean challenges.

“What?”

“You want to take control back, right? Over your own past mainly, so that none of the old shit gets in the way of your current life. You’ve made a start already, coming here. Telling me about shit. What else do you need?”

“I-” For a moment, he’s out of words. This version of Dean is a little scary, he points his finger so directly at the wound. Then the answer comes to Cas in a flash.  _ Even the bossiest color coder needs some help sometimes.  _ “I need to get help. Of the professional kind.” 

Dean nods, and Cas thinks it’s approving. “You want to go see a shrink to work through your damage?”

“Yes. Yes, I think I want to do that,” Cas agrees. Because even though he hadn’t had the thought before just now, it makes total sense to him. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a start. And if he’s honest with the therapist, the therapist can hold him accountable. It can be a way to assure that he’ll not get out of whack as much as he did anymore. That he won’t fall back into old habits and hurt Dean without wanting it. 

“So do you want to do the individual counseling thing or do you want to do the couples’ thing, too?” 

Cas can’t help it, he gapes at Dean, who states these things completely matter-of-factly, like this is a normal talk for them. 

“Hey,” Dean shrugs. “I got a hippie brother and a best friend who has recommended in no uncertain terms that we get help when we need it. And she’s made it pretty clear that she thinks that we need it.”

“I - can I think about that?” Cas asks because that proposal is a whole different ballgame. It kind of blows his mind that Dean would be willing to do this.    


“Obviously,” Dean nods. 

“Thank you,” Cas says. 

Dean shakes his head. “‘S kind of what you do in a relationship, Cas. Support each other.”

“We’re -” not in a relationship, Cas wants to say. Not anymore or not yet again. That blows his mind, too. Dean should be running from him, not supporting him. But the initial nerves have been wiped from Dean’s face and all they’ve left behind is resolve. 

He’s got no idea how he’s never seen that. How much strength Dean possesses. How deliberately he sets out to get the things he wants, even if he often does it in round-about ways or by outwardly submitting. 

“We’re going to do that,” Cas says instead of the other sentence. “Better than we did before.”

Dean smiles. “I’m all for it.”

Cas can’t help but reciprocate the smile, even if his heart is still having little palpitations as it’s trying to catch up with the events of the day. “I want to be the person you need, Dean. But I’m going to have to learn to be it.”

“Hence, counseling,” Dean nods. 

“And a timeout on play,” Cas says. He flinches a little at his own words because he feels the acute loss already. “Until I trust myself with the gift that you’re giving me.”

Dean thinks about that for a few heartbeats before he asks. “But you think you want to go back to it at some point? Because  _ you  _ want it, not just cause I do?”

It’s clear, that even though he offered to go vanilla, he, too, sees that perspective as a loss. It’s almost unbelievable to Cas, that after everything, Dean can still see it like this. That he doesn’t shy away from the topic altogether where Cas is involved. 

“Can I ask something of you, Dean?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah?” Dean answers. 

“If I -  _ When _ I get you that collar, can you promise that you’ll safeword out of any unfair punishment in the very first second? I don’t ever want to do that to you again.”

For a long moment, Dean is silent. He looks at Cas a little sheepishly and a bit guiltily, when he says, “You know that I goaded you, right? When I noticed that you were restless and unhappy. I knew getting rid of some of that negative energy would make you feel better. So I made sure you got to punish me.”

Cas’ stomach turns over as a thousand little snippets come back to his mind. A thousand little moments which he’d never looked at too closely. A thousand times in which he’d -

“Don’t,” Dean’s hand is suddenly clamped around Cas’ wrist. “I can see what you’re doing and it’s your brain lying to you. I knew what I was doing and you didn’t hurt me. I always knew you’d stop before reaching my limit. Think back, Cas. I never once needed to safeword out of one of those punishments. Not once.”   


It’s true, but Cas isn’t sure that makes anything better. He wants to turn away, but Dean holds his wrist like a vice. 

“I’m not stupid, Cas. And contrary to popular opinion, I’m not a big fan of getting abused, either. I know when to safeword. I do it, too. And I didn’t have to.” 

He emphasizes it but Cas’ eyes are already swimming with tears. “ _ I _ should have,” he stutters. “I should have seen what you were doing and safeworded out of that.” 

One of the tears escapes and rolls down his cheek. Dean’s grip on his wrist loosens. He softly brushes the tear away from Cas’ face. Too fast, the sensation is gone, and Cas has to keep an iron grip on himself not to chase the brief touch. 

“Yeah, well, that’s one of the reasons why I’m proposing a collar. And why that counseling thing might actually, you know, be a good thing. Cause according to Charlie the appropriate reaction would be to take the collar off and actually talk. You know, that whole grown-up feelings blabla. To figure out why you’re hurting. Instead of translating it into physical pain.” Dean shrugs. “Not that I’m against physical pain in principle. Just, you know, not as a crutch.”

He smiles, a beautiful lopsided grin, and Cas’ heart beats a little faster. “Dean, can I,” he almost swallows the rest of the question but Dean nods at him to go on, “can I hold your hand?” he mumbles. 

Dean laughs softly. “Yeah, Cas. Yeah, you can.”


	14. Snuggled

Dean turns his palm up in invitation and Cas hesitantly slides his hand over Dean’s. It makes Dean shudder. Noticeably enough, actually, that Cas cringes and tries to take his hand back.

“No,” Dean quickly holds on. “It wasn’t a bad shiver. It’s just that -” it’s the first deliberate touch in months. The first time neither of them is crying and the touch is more than comfort. In fact, it sends tingles up his whole arm. Dean swallows hard because with the tingles the butterflies in his stomach make another appearance. And really, he’s known Cas for so long and they’ve been through so much, how can there still be butterflies like on the first day? “I’ve missed you,” he admits quietly.

It’s impossible to catch the quick flight of emotions over Cas’ face and for a moment, Dean fears that Cas will tell him again that he shouldn’t have missed him, shouldn’t want to be together with him. But Cas exhales slowly and deliberately and then tries for a small smile. “I’ve missed you, too, Dean.”

Dean’s throat suddenly feels tight, and okay, his emotions are on a rollercoaster today. “You wanna stop with the deep talks for a while and, I don’t know, eat the sandwiches and watch a movie or something?”

Cas looks at their joined hands and bites his lip.

“Hey, you can hold hands with me again once we’re done eating. I’m not going anywhere,” Dean tries for a light and teasing tone.

“I - okay.” Cas lets go then, though he does it reluctantly, to get up and go to the small stack of DVDs to find a movie.

“Still no Netflix, huh?” Dean asks.

Cas freezes. “I - no. Should we use yours?”

“It’s okay, Cas, we can watch a DVD. Surprise me!” He frowns. “You good, Cas?”

Cas freezes again, this time with a DVD already in hand. “Yes. No. This is all -” He waves the DVD in a vague gesture.

“A little domestic?” Dean asks.

“A little much,” Cas answers. “I wasn’t…” He clears his throat and mumbles, “I wasn’t expecting to ever get to do this again.”

“Watch DVDs?” Dean asks even though he knows that’s not the answer.

“Watching DVDs with you. Holding your hand. I wasn’t - I’m grateful.”

“Gee, Cas, and here thought I was the one rendered incoherent in your presence. But there you are, stumbling over your sentences.” He makes his voice fond and warm, nudging Cas to react playfully to the teasing and get them over the heavy moment.

Cas looks at him intently for a heartbeat, and Dean gives him the tiniest nod. It’s enough to make Cas straighten up and give his voice a little more strength. “Don’t be a brat! Or I’m going to change movies to something that I know you won't like!”

Dean chuckles at the tame threat. “Alright then, I’ll behave and we’ll see what you’ve got there. It better be awesome if you want to make sure that I’m going to behave.”

“Oh, it is and you will. I have no doubts.”

The tone he uses gives Dean an almost painful twinge in his stomach and Cas flinches, too, the minute he’s said it.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Dean gives him a smile. “It’s going to take a while.”

Cas nods. “But that part of it stands: I swear you’ll like this.” He waves the DVD case and fishes for the remote.

Dean raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t even get around to another snarky comment, because the intro begins playing and Dean recognizes the scenes. “Dude! I didn’t know you owned this! That _is_ awesome!”

Cas blushes but he also smiles shyly. “I may or may not have bought the whole Star Wars series while we were apart.”

The twinge in Dean’s stomach is back, only now it feels suspiciously like butterflies again. “You really did miss me…” He only realizes he’s said that out loud when Cas ducks his head. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here!” Dean quickly distracts and pats the couch cushion next to him. “I’ve only seen Rey kick ass about a dozen times, I don’t want to miss a minute!”

Cas smiles again, then. “She is quite competent, isn’t she?”

“She’s badass! So’s General Organa. And Han Solo, obviously.”

“You’ve always had a weakness for Harrison Ford.” Cas smiles and it’s almost not awkward when he sits back down next to Dean.

“Well, can you blame me?” Dean shrugs. “He’s a dashing dude.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth rises on one side in a crooked little smile. “Like Patrick Swayze?”

“Dude, unfair! We’re not talking about that, remember?” He nudges Cas in the side. “I can’t tease you, you can’t tease me.”

“Is that so?” Cas asks and the way he keeps his eyes locked with Dean’s make something hot and smoldering come back alive inside him.

‘Not now. Wrong timing. Calm down, tiger,’ he admonishes himself. Out loud he says, “Yep. That’s how it’s like today.”

But he still ducks under Cas’ arm to lean against his shoulder and only takes his hand after Cas’ arm is firmly wrapped around him.

It’s weird and comforting at the same time, watching a movie wrapped up into each other like this. It takes a while, all of the beginning sequence and well past the first meeting of Stormpilot, until their bodies get the message and slowly start relaxing into each other. It’s like their muscles have to remember each other’s shapes. Dean soaks in a deep breath, surrounded by Cas as he is, and yeah, there’s definitely something about smell being close to the brainstem, because it’s enough to make him smile and bury a little deeper. It’s so much better, having Cas’ smell live and in person than the stale version he got in his empty apartment.

In response to Dean’s snuggling closer, Cas’ arm comes up around him tighter, and then it takes no more than another deep breath and the conscious decision to just enjoy for a little while and not think, and Dean’s arm comes up around Cas’ waist and that is how they stay for the rest of the movie.

By the end of it, they are hungry, though, for something more substantial than sandwiches, so Cas produces a few take out menus and they order some fried rice from an Asian place and settle back in for a rewatch of Rogue One.

By the end of that, the sky has long grown dark and their eyes are mostly fallen shut.

Dean yawns. “Guess it’s bedtime.”

“I guess you’re right,” Cas nods though he seems reluctant to move.

Well, Dean understands that.

“The bed already has fresh sheets,” Cas continues, though he makes no effort to actually move yet. “I just have to get my blankets from the bedroom.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean nods but his brain is suddenly wide awake again.

Still reluctant, Cas untangles himself from Dean and gets up. His whole spine pops when he stretches.

Dean follows him to the bedroom, though he stays in the doorframe and watches Cas rummage.

Cas isn’t dangerous. Cas hasn’t ever touched Dean without his consent.

He can still hear Charlie’s voice, muttering something that sounds like _epically stupid_ . And oh yeah, he’s got to write her a text message before he goes to sleep. If nothing else, he’s got to send her the code for _everything is okay_.

When Cas comes back up from his search, he has both arms full of blankets and pillows. He comes over to the door where Dean crosses his arms and doesn’t budge.

It’s a stand-off then, neither of them saying a word.

Cas makes another attempt at passing Dean while Dean keeps adamantly blocking the doorway.

“Dean, this is a bad idea.” But Cas turns around and drops the heap of blankets on the bed. On his side of the bed, to be precise.

“Yes, you’re probably right,” Dean agrees but he doesn’t back down. “Pyjama bottoms. Cuddling is a yes, sex is a no.” He kind of really wants Cas to hear the _shirt not needed_ part of the sentence. He could do with a little warmth and bare skin tonight.

“Are you sure?” Cas asks, hesitant.

“I want to be with you, Cas. And you said you want to be with me. I understand that we’re not good yet. That there’s stuff we need to work out and stuff you need to work through on your own. That we need strategies for when you get triggered. But I still want to be close. Provided that you want that, too, obviously,” he gives in and leaves the doorframe to come over to the bed, freeing the exit for Cas to flee if that’s what he chooses to do. “Same rules as before, I’m going to still be here whether you want to wake up next to me or would rather sleep on the couch.”

Cas’ hands cramp into his bed sheets and for a long moment, he looks torn. Then he breathes out deeply and lets go of the fabric. He turns to the closet and rummages in a drawer until he unearths a pair of PJ pants. “I’m going to go change in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, accepting the answer as is.

He picks through his duffel until he finds his sweatpants since he didn’t actually bring any pyjamas. He throws the pants on the bed and sits down himself.

Now for the hard part. He stares at his phone for a long moment.

_Dean @Charlie: The Impala is in Sioux Falls._

It’s such a stupid code. It might work with a stranger but Cas would look through it immediately. Well, maybe not what the code means. Though he knows that Dean has good memories of Sioux Falls. The code for everything is okay. Would the Impala be in Lawrence, then there’d be a problem.

_Dean @Charlie: I think you’d be proud and upset at the same time if you were here. Proud because we talked. Upset because that whole keeping our distance thing is so not working._

Before he can add a second text with more explanation, the answer already comes in.

_Charlie @Dean: Did you sleep with him?_

_Dean @Charlie: No. I’ve been good. Not even a kiss.  
Dean @Charlie: But I will sleep with him. Or next to him. One bed. But PJs. _

_Charlie @Dean: Are you back together?_

Dean’s not sure what to answer to that. Not even just because he’s not sure whether it’s a trick question. But while they’ve talked about wanting to be together, they haven’t talked about whether they still need more of a time-out beforehand.

That’s the moment that Cas chooses to come back from the bathroom. He has his clothes balled up in front of him like a shield, but he’s really only wearing pyjama bottoms. “I was thinking…” Cas starts and breaks off.

“Yeah?”

“If we.. if you really want to come to the graveyard with me tomorrow, then maybe I could introduce you to my granny after? If you wanted to meet her?”

Dean’s heart gives a lurch like it’s going to jump out of his chest. “You want me to meet her?”

“She’s the only family I have. Of course I want you to meet her!”

“Is she going to interrogate me?” Dean asks to cover his feelings. He only halfway means it as a joke, anyway. Of course there’s another possibility, too. “Or are you going to introduce me as _a friend_?”

Cas vehemently shakes his head. “She knows about you. She knows you’re more than a friend.”

And okay, that is good. That is more than Dean expected. Though it still doesn’t really answer the question. “What are you going to introduce me as then?”

Cas puts his folded clothes down on the chair, stacking them very neatly. To win a few seconds to think, probably. It makes Dean bite his lip, insecurity returning. It’s still a bit of a breathless moment, though, when Cas turns around, no pile of clothes to hide his muscles and the low ride of his pants on his hips. Dean swallows hard. It is fucking unfair that Cas is so distracting.

“Whatever you want me to introduce you as,” Cas finally answers and it’s enough to make Dean rip his eyes away from Cas’ torso to look up into Cas’ eyes.

He finds his own worry mirrored in them, even down to the way Cas is worrying at his lip.

It still seems impossible, really. That Cas is not effortlessly secure and in charge of this. That he’s as vulnerable as Dean. But it’s clear in every line of Cas’ face that he’s got as much riding on this as Dean, and that he’s fighting hard to keep himself open even though he expects rejection.

Well, that’s an easy decision then. “As your partner, Cas. I want you to introduce me as your partner because that’s what I want to be. Your partner in life.”

“My partner.” Cas tilts his head like he’s mulling the word over. “My life partner.” He emphasizes the _life_ like he wants to make sure everyone hears the difference to business partner.

“You get what it means, right?” Dean asks. Because it’s not a word they’ve used for each other before. Boyfriend, yes. Significant other, yes. In rare instances Dom and sub, though Dean’s never been a hundred percent comfortable with it. It’s got less to do with that he’s uncomfortable with what they were doing, and more with the fact that the titles are used almost like a business transaction sometimes, and in no way imply any of the romantic feelings and the wish for exclusivity and a future together that Dean had tried to deny he had but that his subconscious never let him forget.  

“Equals who support each other in life. Yes, you’ve made yourself clear, Dean. Life partners. I like it.”

“Good,” Dean answers gruffly, opting to acknowledge his emotions and then fleeing before they can become overwhelming. “I’m gonna go change. I’ll be right back.”

The minute he’s in the bathroom, he takes his phone out again. Charlie has already written in the meantime, though at least she’s kept it to one message. So she can’t be too worried.

_Charlie @Dean: I take your silence as a yes. And yes, that doesn’t make me happy. But Dean, I’m not going to judge. There’s no need to shut me out._

Dean allows a small smile onto his face. He feels like he’s been put through the wringer today. But he’s glad he’s got a friend like her by his side.

_Dean @Charlie. Not shutting you out. I’ll call you tomorrow night, okay? When I know how the day went._

He undresses and brushes his teeth while he’s waiting for the answer.

_Charlie @Dean: Okay. But we still have a call scheduled in the morning which I intend to go through with. And don’t hesitate to call before if it’s needed, okay? I’m here._

_Dean @Charlie: I know. Trust my judgement on this?_

_Charlie @Dean: I do. I’d have tried harder to keep you from going there if I didn’t. ;)_

And yeah, that’s probably true.

_Dean @Charlie: Love you, too, Red. And now I’m gonna go stare down the lion - I mean, go to bed._

_Charlie @Dean: Resisting all the jokes. Best of luck!_

He chuckles and grabs his stuff to go back to the bedroom.

It’s only a few steps, tiny as Cas’ apartment is, but it’s enough to get him nervous again.

He’s not sure whether it makes things better or worse when Cas is already in bed, huddled under the blankets and looking just as nervous as Dean feels.

“Why does this feel like we’ve never done this before?” he grumbles while he climbs under the covers.

“Because we haven’t? Not like this, anyway,” Cas replies.

“We’ve slept in a bed without any expectation of sex,” Dean points out.

“Yes, but…”

But the reason was either that they already had had sex before, that they were playing and Cas wouldn’t allow sex, or that they’d been to a party and were too tired and drunk to have sex. Because they haven’t ever lived together. So when Dean stayed over, sex was usually on the menu.

“I’d like to,” Dean clears his throat uncomfortably. “I’d like to find out how it feels. Just, you know, being together. Without it being sexual.” Because sex is not all that he wants from Cas. Because for the first time, he’s had the guts to say it, too. That he wants love. “I want to wake up with you in the morning just because I want to wake up next to you. Is that weird?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “It’s not weird. It’s brave.”

Dean huffs, because really a lot of people manage this so there can’t be that much bravery involved. Only, he knows exactly what Cas means. Because they have definitely never been brave enough to do this before. “So, you wanna be the big spoon?” he asks.

“Yes,” Cas nods and it doesn’t look like he had to think about this one.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Dean chuckles. He rolls to his side, holding the covers up in invitation. “You gonna come over and protect me from all the evil nightmares?”

“I will try,” Cas says seriously and nestles close.

Dean takes Cas’ arm, loosely splayed over his chest so far, and draws him in tighter, until Dean is firmly pressed against Cas’ chest, Cas’ hand on Dean’s chest holding him.

“Good,” Dean mumbles.  

He thinks he feels Cas’ smile in his hair and then something that feels suspiciously like Cas is pressing a kiss to the back of his head. “Sleep well, Dean.”

“You, too, Cas.” Dean wiggles a little more, maximising the warmth spreading through him, and when he closes his eyes, the exhaustion of the emotional day hits him like a freight train and it’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep.


	15. Brave

Cas jolts awake in the morning, catapulted out of sleep by a noise he can’t quite place. The neighbors?

He grumbles and puts his pillow over his face because the noise ripped him out of such a nice dream of Dean being here and - he sits up with a start. Dean  _ is  _ here. 

Or was, at least, because the bed next to Cas is empty. 

Hectically, he searches the room, and yes, there is Dean’s duffel, right where he left it yesterday. 

Cas lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. Dean is still here. Dean didn’t leave. 

Which begs the question: Where is Dean?

Unable to stay in bed for a single minute longer, Cas taps out of the room on bare feet in search of Dean. 

He finds him in the kitchen. Which should probably not be a surprise, seeing how he’d always known that Dean is fond of cooking, and which should double not surprise him because it also explains the noise Cas had been hearing. 

Dean is moving around the kitchen in his sweatpants, humming an AC/DC song under his breath, and cracking eggs into a bowl in the rhythm of the song. 

Cas watches him for a long minute, the change to the atmosphere of his abject little apartment that Dean causes by happily puttering around the kitchen almost too bewildering to sink in. But the longer he stands there, the more he feels like a creep, so Cas clears his throat. “What are you making?”

The rhythm of Dean’s song falters as he cracks the egg with too much force, apparently startled by Cas’ voice. 

Cas immediately holds out his hands, palms open, appeasing, and doesn’t come any closer. 

But Dean shakes himself out of it. “French toast. It’s about the only thing you have the ingredients for. You want to help?”

Cas wants to shake his head. He wants to say, ‘I’m happy just getting to stand here, watching you. I’m happy to get to be in your vicinity at all.’ But that’s weird and he knows it’s weird, so instead he nods and steps closer after all. “What do you need me to do?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him, and Cas can feel the heat rising into his cheeks. 

“You’re the better cook,” he mumbles. “Just tell me what to do.”

It’s hard to judge the flicker of emotions crossing Dean’s face, but finally he nods. “Get the milk out of the fridge for me?”

Cas complies and they spend the next fifteen minutes quietly preparing breakfast, Dean occasionally asking him to perform a specific task, but mostly just working next to each other, Dean making the toast while Cas takes care of the coffee and sets the table. 

It doesn’t take too long to prepare everything, and then they’re sitting at the table and they’re still silent and Cas can’t shake the feeling of everything being off that has followed him all morning. It’s too much for his brain, to suddenly not be alone in this place that he’d fled to because he felt that everything was suffocating him or that he was suffocating everyone. He doesn’t even know anymore which one it was. 

“It’s okay, Cas.”

“What?” Cas startles. 

“You don’t have to know what you’re doing. We’ve established that yesterday, haven’t we? So it’s okay if all of this,” Dean waves vaguely at the table and the two of them, “is fucking weird. Feels fucking weird to me, too.”

“It kind of is,” Cas admits. 

“‘s to be expected,” Dean says around a mouthful of French toast. Apparently, while it’s  _ fucking weird _ , it’s not enough to curb his appetite. 

And that is what finally makes Cas smile and relax a little. As long as Dean is still enjoying his food, everything can’t be completely wrong. 

They start a light conversation, talking about the movies they saw yesterday, Dean filling Cas in on all the funny behind the scenes facts that Cas has no idea about. By the end of breakfast, they are both laughing and smiling and Cas kind of wants the moment to last forever. 

So of course it doesn’t, and instead it all comes crashing down around Cas with one sentence. 

“So, do you still want to go visit the graveyard today?” Dean asks carefully, like he expects an explosion or a break-down. 

Cas feels his features go slack, easy smile disappearing as the iron gate of the cemetery shows up in front of his inner eye. He’s gone there so often and with every passing day, he’d dreaded his own failure ever more because he knew it was coming. But now, the rules have changed and he’s not dreading failure anymore. Because Dean’s here, so if they do this - if Cas actually goes through with this and takes Dean with him to the graveyard, then that’s it. That’s the moment when Cas will have to face the cold reality of a marble headstone. 

“Hey, hey Cas, you still with me?” Dean’s hand is warm on Cas’ face when he tilts Cas’ head up to make him look at him. “We don’t have to go today if it’s too much.”

There’s so much worry, so much compassion in Dean’s eyes that Cas wants to hide from it. He shudders and rather than answering buries his face in Dean’s neck. 

He can feel Dean’s chuckle vibrate through his body. “That is not an answer, sweetheart.”

Cas grumbles something that he doesn’t even know himself what it is supposed to be and buries his nose deeper into Dean’s skin. 

Just then, Dean’s phone rings. Dean checks it one-handed, and softly but determinedly breaks away from Cas. “That’s Charlie. I gotta take it, Cas.”

He doesn’t offer more explanation, but then, Cas doesn’t need it. He knows why. 

“Hey, Red, up already? How ya doing? Yeah, I’m fine.” 

The bedroom door falls shut behind Dean, leaving Cas to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. He stares at the closed door for a moment before he manages to get himself together enough to move. 

Mechanically, he starts cleaning away their breakfast dishes. He lets the water run a little longer than necessary. Anything to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to eavesdrop on Dean’s phone call. Dean’s told him how he feels about him. There is no reason to assume he would tell Charlie anything different. And even if he does, it’s still Dean’s private business. Cas has no right to the content of Dean’s friendships. Not even when he’s the subject of Dean’s conversations. 

Also, he needs to stop obsessing about this and get a grip. The only problem being that the only other thing to think about is the graveyard. 

There’s a little map on the side-table by the door, courtesy of Bal. It shows the layout of the cemetery and has a little cross at the point where Gabe’s grave is. He’d found it in his post box with a note teasing him about it being  _ just like Castiel _ to finally make it to the cemetery only to get lost. 

Cas puts the map on the big table so that they don’t forget it. He guesses that means he’s made his decision. 

Which also means he should warn Missouri about their coming by later. Because if he does this thing, he wants the reward of getting to introduce Dean to his Granny later. 

At least that is something that he’s reasonably sure is going to go over well. Dean is a wonderful person, and his Granny hasn’t seen what’s happened between them in the past half year or so. 

He has the urge to avert his eyes, to express the shame that he feels over how he’s treated Dean, but Dean’s still on the phone with Charlie so there’s no one to avert his eyes from. Instead, he paces to the living room to straighten up the couch cushions and bring the DVDs back to their places on the shelf. Anything to keep busy. 

Things are not going to go over quite as well when they get home. Charlie, Sam, Benny, hell even Bobby. Cas will have a list of people hounding him on Dean’s behalf the minute they hear that they’re giving it a new try. 

“You can’t protect me,” Cas turns around to Dean the moment the bedroom door opens. 

“What?” Dean asks taken aback

“When we get back home. You can’t protect me from them and I don’t want you to. The only way to win their trust back is to do the work and to prove to them that I can be better. That I’m not just some asshole.”

“They know that already, Cas.”

“So you’re telling me Charlie didn’t chew you out?” He tries to make it sound not aggressive and instead attach a weak smile. “Cause that was a long phone call.”

Dean looks like he got caught but he shrugs it off. “She’s gonna come around.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Every single one of our friends will need to come around.”

Dean sighs and gives up on the supportive smile. “Yeah. I know, Cas.”

“I have to make amends to them, too, not only you. You have to let me.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. “It’s not like I ever tried to keep you from doing something you wanted to do, is it?”

And now Cas has a person to avert his eyes from. Because he’s the one in this relationship guilty of that. “I’m sorry.” It’s not enough but it’s the only words he has.

Dean studies him for a long moment before he answers. “I accept the apology.” He doesn’t deepen the topic, though, but instead nods towards the map on the table. “So, we’re doing this?” 

And of course he would have noticed the map. 

“Yes,” Cas answers, though his throat is closing up and he has trouble getting the words out. “Just let me go get dressed really quick and…” He waves his phone in the air and then flees towards the bedroom, to text Missouri and get dressed. 

 

They stay in motion after that. It’s like they’re pulled by invisible strings or like they know that if they lose momentum, they won’t go. They silently put on their shoes and jackets and Dean pockets the map. Cas isn’t quite sure what he thinks of that but he goes along. He does the same when Dean stops him with a light hand on his arm and a shake of his head when Cas wants to go to his car. It doesn’t need more than Dean pointing towards Cas’ hands to understand his reasoning. Cas’ hands are shaking. He hadn’t even noticed. He nods and follows Dean to the Impala. 

He’s never really appreciated her, Dean’s obsession with his car something that is so foreign to him that he couldn’t keep from making fun of it, but now he welcomes the smell of leather and Dean that surrounds him the minute they’re inside. 

One of Dean’s mix tapes starts blaring and Dean turns it off with an apologetic grimace. 

“It’s okay.” Cas’ words get lost under the rumble of the car as Dean revs the engine. 

“You gotta tell me how to get there.”

The practical is a welcome rope tethering him to the present, so he gives Dean detailed instructions. Detailed enough, actually, that he thinks it makes Dean smile in understanding, even though Dean doesn’t comment on it. 

And then they’re there. 

Cas’ hands are clammy and the shaking has somehow taken over his whole body. 

The sky is clear and the sun shining on the large iron gate feels wrong somehow. There should be grey clouds towering in the sky. Cas hugs his arms around his body, hiding his shaking hands in his armpits as he stares up at the gate. 

Until gentle finger pry at him and make him look at what’s in front of him, that is. 

“Come on, Cas. Gimme your hand.” Dean looks determined as he goes about deconstructing Cas’ defensive posture. 

Somehow, his body reacts more sluggish than usual, so Cas can’t really do much more than watch as Dean untangles his arms and firmly takes his hand. 

“Let’s get past the gate first, okay? And then we’ll see.” 

Dean waits for something and it takes Cas longer than it should to notice that it’s a reaction from him. He gives a small nod. 

It’s enough for Dean apparently, because he sets out, steps as determined as his face had been. Cas doesn’t even have to tell his own feet to follow, they just do. He keeps his eyes on Dean, intentionally ignoring everything around them, but he can’t help flinching when they pass the shadow of the gate. 

Still, they’ve made it inside and with barely a pause. After all the failures before, it seems like a miracle. Though Cas isn’t sure it’s one of the good kind. His heart is thundering in his chest. 

“Okay, that’s step one. Next part is yours.” Dean takes the map out of his pocket and holds it out to Cas.

He hasn’t let go of Cas’ hand, the warmth of the connection another tether to the present. 

Hesitantly, Cas takes the map. He’s studied it so often that he doesn’t actually need it anymore. He can see it in front of his closed eyes at night. It usually conjures up the image of an open grave, a gleaming white casket being lowered into it. Gleaming white, like their mother had suddenly decided that her son had been an innocent after all. 

“I wish it had been pink with glitter. His casket. I wish anything about the funeral had been about him.” The sentence breaks out of him against his will. To make up for it, he turns around briskly, giving Dean no chance to answer. He doesn’t want an answer. He wants this over with. 

So he hurries down the path, dragging Dean with him. Not that Dean resists the pace or tries to stop him. He does grab his hand a little tighter, though. And yeah, Cas can feel it, too, how his trembling has intensified. 

Still, he forges ahead. There is no turning back now. And Cas doesn’t want to turn back. He wants to turn to the future. And he needs to confront his brother for that. 

For that’s what he’s here for. He knows it clear as the sky now.

So he drags Dean with him and doesn’t stop until he’s reached the right side-path with the right headstone. He barely glances at the slab of marble, just enough to make sure that this is indeed the right name on the stone and his map hasn’t been lying to him. 

“You asshole, you fucking asshole.” 

He wishes he could shove him, but of course marble won’t be shoved and Gabe won’t feel it either way. So all Cas does is to let go of Dean and fall to his knees in front of the stone. 

“Why the fuck did you do it? Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to leave me alone? Who gave you the right, you asshole!”

There’s a vase with Bal’s flowers in front of the headstone. There’s a selection of large colorful lollipops mixed in with them. For a moment, Cas stares at them incredulously. He takes the largest lollipop out of the vase and points it accusatorily at the stone.

“He brings you candy? He still brings you fucking candy? This is what you had, you fucking moron. You had someone who loved you so much that he - that he still - that after so many years he still -” and then his voice breaks and he starts sobbing and a moment later warm arms circle him and he cries into Dean’s shoulder because the world is fucking unfair and he loves his brother and he wants him to be alive and he wants to hear him laugh just one more time and he can’t have that and he doesn’t know how to live with that knowledge. Has never known how. But he holds on to Dean and Dean doesn’t flinch away from the broken mess that Cas is. In fact, Dean holds him close and drops little kisses on Cas’ hair and otherwise lets him cry. 

And it’s too much and it’s not enough and Cas has never known how to go on living but godfuckingdammit he wants to live and he wants to be close to this beautiful man and he wants to give him everything he deserves and he wants to never let him go and he  _ wants  _ so hard that it hurts and he can’t take it anymore and he pushes his head up from its resting place against Dean’s shoulder almost violently and then he leans forward and kisses him, never mind the tears and snot that stain his face. 

For a second, Dean is taken aback, not responding, and Cas’ heart stops beating until Dean’s hand comes up around the back of his neck and Dean is kissing him back. 

There is a new flood of tears then that Cas is completely unable to stop. 

Dean doesn’t seem to mind, though, he keeps kissing Cas and Cas holds onto it like a life-line. Because it is. Because he’d never have found the strength to do any of this if it wasn’t for Dean. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” 

He’s not sure it’s intelligible between the teary hiccups but Dean strokes a hand down Cas’ face and smiles at him. “You’re not alone, Cas. You don’t have to be alone ever again.”

And these tears will probably never stop, because that makes him sob again. Dean gathers him against his chest and holds him through it. 

 

It’s been long enough that he’s already calmed down somewhat when Dean suddenly tenses and straightens up. His hold on Cas tightens, like he prepares to shield him from whatever has him on edge. 

Cas sniffles but he sits up to find out what’s going on. 

And looks right into Balthazar’s worried face. Though the moment that he notices Cas looking at him, Balthazar replaces the worry with an obnoxious smirk. “Still stealing your brother’s candy?” He nods towards the lollipop Cas is holding onto. “I have a couple of fresh ones with me if you’re that hungry.”

Cas growls at him but it’s enough to stop the last of his tears. He wipes his face and stabs the lollipop back into the vase with too much force. 

Dean holds a tissue in front of him and he takes it gratefully. “Dean, Balthazar. Balthazar, Dean,” he mutters. His voice sounds rough from the tears, but it holds. 

“You’re the boyfriend who gave him so much heartache then?” Balthazar says, though there is no malevolence in his voice. “I’m the foster brother and that guy’s my ex.” He nods towards the headstone. 

Dean sputters something incomprehensible at the casual reference to Cas’ dead brother.    


“What are you even doing here, Bal?” Cas asks. He doesn’t manage to give his voice the exasperated edge he was aiming for, it’s still too thick with tears. He clears his throat. He did not expect to have to deal with Balthazar’s antics while being less than composed. 

“Got a call from Missouri,” Bal answers nonchalantly. “Apparently I’m invited to lunch with the two of you after this whole shebang here. Thought I might as well make sure that you’re going to make it there so that I don’t starve to death.”

“I didn’t tell her we were going to the grave,” Cas frowns. 

“It’s Missouri,” Balthazar shrugs. “She always knows.”

Cas nods. That makes sense to him even though Dean raises his eyebrows quizzically.    


“So, do you need some more time here or can we go?” Balthazar asks. “Cause I skipped breakfast, so honestly, I’m kind of hungry. Pretty sure Gabe won’t mind if we bail on him. He bailed on us first, after all.”

Dean’s shocked intake of breath is hard to miss so Cas quickly puts a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Dean. This is just how he is.”

Dean looks at him incredulously, probably because he expected a bad reaction from Cas. But really, Bal’s complete lack of reverence is refreshing. He treats Gabe like he’s - a person. Come to think of it, he’s always done that. He’s never treated him like a wounded animal or like something was wrong with him. Come to think of it, he’s never treated Cas like he was less than a complete person, either. For that alone, he’s allowed to be a little abrasive.

“So, are you coming or do I need to kick you into gear?” 

Well, maybe  _ a little abrasive _ was an understatement. “We’re coming, Bal.” Cas rolls his eyes at him and gets up before offering Dean a hand to help him up. Dean accepts it, though he clearly doesn’t need it. He doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand when he’s up, either. Instead, he weaves their fingers together. His eyes are still narrowed at Balthazar, like he’s trying to figure him out. Cas squeezes his hand. Balthazar is okay, even though he’s a bit of an acquired taste. 

Cas looks back at the headstone and the flowers and candy. There aren’t many people who would do this. And Bal was here when Cas was not. He looks up and locks eyes with Bal. “Thank you. For everything.”

For a moment, Bal’s mask drops, his face going serious. But he doesn’t say what they’re both thinking:  _ I still miss him. I know you do, too. _ Instead, he slaps his obnoxious grin on again. “You know that if he’s watching he’s snickering at how sappy we are, right?”

“Well, if he wanted it differently, he shouldn’t have gotten himself in a position where he can’t protest,” Cas grumbles, deliberately choosing to address Gabe like Bal does. Like a person. Like he’s still alive. It feels good. Right. Like he’s suddenly much closer to his brother than he was before. He can talk of him like this without the memories choking him, he thinks. 

Balthazar snorts. “Guess I can’t argue with that. Hear that, Gabe? You can’t stop us from being sappy at your expense.” He lets his hand linger on the headstone for a moment and places a new lollipop with the ones already there. It’s got rainbow stripes. 

 

The drive to Missouri’s isn’t as quiet as the one to the graveyard, mostly because Bal keeps chatting in the backseat. 

To his own surprise, Cas finds himself chuckling along with the stories. Judging by the glances Dean keeps sending him, he’s as surprised as Cas by this development. 

But yeah, weird as it is, Cas feels - okay. Not good, not by a long stretch. But the visit to the graveyard - it’s like a boulder the size of Texas has dropped from his shoulders. 

And now he’s in a car with his boyfriend - no, with the man he’s one day going to marry, and he’s on his way to introduce him to his family. Though he really already has introduced him to one person in his family. He smiles at Balthazar, though he’s got no clue whether Bal’s story warrants a smile right now. But he’s found family in him and he’s going to honor that. He won’t lose contact again. He knows it in his heart. 

This time, he’s going to do things right. This time, he’s going to build a future that includes the past. 

This time, he’s going to do more than survive. 

This time, he’s going to live. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a wild ride from stand-alone short story (now the first chapter) over “This can’t stand! Cas is not an asshole!” via “Dean and Cas are on the right path but real life keeps us from writing” to here, where Dean and Cas are happily reunited and have the chance to build a better, healthier future. We hope you enjoyed the ride just as much as we did (minus the real life interference, that sucked). There will be one more chapter, an epilogue some time later. So keep tuned one more time!


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We tried. We wanted to give you smut. We really did. Dean and Cas had other ideas. #saps

Dean knows what to expect. He knows, because they’ve talked about it for a month now, discussing details to a much further extent than they ever have before. But for all that they’ve started playing in bits and pieces again in the past half year, Cas hadn’t felt comfortable with a real scene if it wasn’t discussed in detail. 

So Dean knows that he’s not going to find Cas in the kitchen when coming home tonight, but that instead he will find a note giving him an instruction. He spots the note immediately, too, his stomach doing a little somersault at the sight. He quickly steps out of his shoes and hangs his jacket on its hook next to the entrance. 

He smoothes down the fabric of Cas’ ugly old trench coat that hangs on its own dedicated hook next to it. It makes him smile, how there’s a space for their coats next to each other, just like there’s a space next to each other for their toothbrushes in the bathroom and for their favorite mugs in the kitchen cabinet. And of course there’s a space for them next to each other in bed as well. 

The thought of  _ bed _ shakes him out of his revery and he hurries towards the kitchen table. They’ve decided to keep a few things as surprises to allow for a bit of freedom in the scene, even when they’ve hammered down precisely what’s on the list of activities that are a  _ go _ , including what’s going to happen during aftercare and setting aside a time on Sunday to talk about everything and see whether it worked for them. 

In any case, the note is enough of an unknown to give Dean a few tingles. He unfolds it neatly. 

_ Dean, I promise I’m not going back on my word. But I have something that I need to do before we get into the depth of the scene. I hope you will forgive me for changing our carefully crafted plans. I know it’s not good style. I would have talked about it with you earlier, but I only realised how important this was to me when I started preparing for tonight. _

_ Please keep your clothes on for now and go to the bedroom.  _

And okay, that is not what Dean was expecting. He reads the note again, the tingles in his stomach turning to confusion. But no matter whether the rest of the note makes sense or not, there is an instruction what to do next, so Dean follows the command, making his way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is empty. He frowns. Then he spies another piece of paper, this one on his pillow. 

_ Dean, you are, without doubt, the most important person in my life. I’ve needed a long time to admit it, but I fell in love with you almost immediately and since then, my appreciation for you has only ever deepened.  _

_ Open the top drawer of the cabinet. There is a present there for you.  _

Dean smiles as he smoothes out the note. “Sap,” he mumbles but he does as he’s told and opens the top drawer. 

The present is wrapped in simple light blue paper. There is nothing out of the ordinary to it, it’s just a rectangular box but Dean’s got a feeling he knows what he’s going to find in it, and it drives his heartrate up a happy notch. 

He takes the present over to the bed with him and sits down to unwrap the paper carefully. Underneath it is a nice box, and when he opens it, there are two smaller packages and another note. He shakes his head. This is turning into quite the scavenger hunt. 

He unfolds the note first. 

_ Dear Dean, both of these packages hold something that is already dear to me and that I hope will become dear to you, too. I’m more nervous about the one than the other. I guess you’ll figure out why when you open them.  _

_ After you’ve opened them, please come find me on the porch. How the evening goes from there is up to you. Bring what you can immediately accept. If you come out empty-handed, I know that we’ll have some more talking to do. I won’t be upset about that, I swear. The choice is all yours. I love you.  _

It’s the weirdest note still but Dean’s heart-rate has gone up another notch, because one of the packages is long and flat, the other small and square, and that almost looks like - he stops his train of thought and starts with the bigger present, being more certain about that one. 

His fingers touch the warm leather before he even has the box all the way open. He lets out a relieved breath. Cas indeed did not go back on his word. He still wants this. 

Dean takes his time inspecting the collar. It’s simple but well made, thickly padded leather with a D-ring in front and a clasp at the back. He assesses its size, though he knows that Cas has his measurements and that he’s too meticulous to order it wrong.

Dean doesn’t actually bring the collar up to his neck, though. That’s Cas’ job. At least the first time. So he puts the collar down for now and turns his attention to the second parcel. 

He bites his lip as he takes it in hand. It has the right size to be… He makes an effort to calm his breathing but can’t quite keep his fingers from shaking when he fumbles to open the box. 

It’s a dark grey titanium band. It has a single blue stone set into it. 

Dean blinks. Stares at it. Stares at it some more. 

The box had the right size to be - exactly this. 

Cas is proposing. 

For a moment, Dean’s brain feels frozen. Then he starts laughing helplessly. They’ve discussed it ad infinitum how this evening was supposed to go. So that they would feel secure and that there would not be any big surprises. And now - this. 

“You fricking sappy moron,” Dean chuckles, opting to downplay the way his heart is expanding. 

He can almost see Cas sitting on their bed, collar already wrapped, thinking it over what this step means to them, and then deciding that no, this is not enough. There needs to be something else to balance the collar. A physical sign that that’s not all they are.

Not an object. Not a plaything. Feelings that are reciprocated. 

It’s been awhile since Dean has doubted it. There’s been small bursts of insecurity here and there, even after Washington. But they’ve always managed to find the courage to talk about it. And they’ve always ended up closer than they were before. 

And now - Dean swallows and looks at the ring again. He’s known it, deep in his heart, that that’s where they were heading. He wouldn’t want it any different, either. But he hadn’t expected this. Not today. 

He rubs a thumb over the ring, feeling its smoothness. They’ve always been more than the collar alone suggests. And now, now when Cas tells him to get naked, the ring will stay on. A visible sign who they are to each other even while they’re in a scene. 

“You stupid sap,” Dean mumbles, though the warmth in his voice betrays all of his feelings. 

He gets up. He’s probably kept Cas waiting for quite a while anyway and waiting has to be nerve-wrecking for him right now. 

Dean hides the ring in his left hand and takes the collar in his right. 

As promised, Cas is waiting on the porch, having commandered their rocker. He’s got a book on his lap, but he’s staring at it rather blankly. Up until the moment when he catches Dean’s movement in the reflection of the glass door. 

“Hey,” Dean greets him softly. 

Cas blinks at him, eyes moving rapidly from his face to his hands and back up to his face. There is nothing left of the stoic unflappable guy that had guarded his heart and his expression. This Cas wears all of his insecurity out in the open. 

So Dean decides to have mercy and not keep him in suspense. 

In three long steps, he crosses the porch to where Cas is sitting and goes down on one knee in front of him. Without waiting, he asks, “Will you do me the honor and put this on me?” and opens his left hand. “Will you marry me, Cas?”

Cas sags with relief the moment he sees the ring. “Yes, Dean. Yes, I want that. Obviously I want that.” 

Cas’ reply is so fast that the words stumble all over each other, and Dean chuckles when he lets the ring drop into Cas’ palm. 

Cas stares at it in wonder, as if it hadn’t been him who bought the damn thing. Then Cas opens his other palm. 

There is a twin to Dean’s ring sitting in it. The only difference is that the stone set into this ring is a mossy green. 

Against his will, Dean starts laughing, “Our eye colors, Cas? Seriously? God, how did I miss for so long what a hopeless romantic you are!” He draws him into a kiss that still tingles with his laughter. 

The kiss intensifies the warmth that had already been spreading through Dean, and when it ends, his laughter has turned into a soft smile. “Let’s do this, Cas,” he says and holds out his hand so that Cas can put the ring on his finger.

Cas does so reverently. 

Dean smiles at the sparkling band on his finger and then holds out his hand for Cas to drop the other ring into. 

Cas does and holds out his hand for Dean to put the ring on. 

It’s a weird feeling, sliding the ring onto Cas’ finger. Dean didn’t expect it to feel like much at all but it feels good. It feels like laying a claim on Cas. One that is not only accepted, but wanted. It feels like Dean is wanted. Is wanted just as much as he wants Cas. And that feeling is still the best in the world.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean says and strokes his thumb over Cas’ ring before looking up at him. 

“I love you, too, Dean. I can’t even tell you how much.”

Dean thinks he might have an idea about that, seeing how his own heart might be exploding with joy any second. 

An explosion which, he feels, can only be avoided by getting as close to Cas as he can. Is consummating an engagement a thing? Dean has no idea but he knows that he wants to feel the warmth of Cas’ skin and worship every inch of him and get touched and worshipped in return. And currently they’re wearing way too many clothes for that. 

Well, fortunately for him, he has the tool to get to what he wants already in hand. 

So he makes sure that he catches Cas’ eye and then very deliberately shifts from one knee to kneeling on both, straightening his posture in the process. He holds out the collar to Cas. 

“Come on, Cas. Make me yours.”


End file.
